


Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Cape

by ChimaeraKitten



Series: There's No Place Like It [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Bonding, Gen, Happy Ending, Jason is a nerd, Teen and Up because Swearing, yes editing we do not die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimaeraKitten/pseuds/ChimaeraKitten
Summary: Jason Todd as finally accepted that maybe Wayne Manor can become home, but nothing is ever truly settled, and Jason's past and future both have a way of haunting him.





	1. A Comedy

**Author's Note:**

> Direct Sequel to [We're Not in Crime Alley Anymore.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10963506/chapters/24406599) I guess you could read this without reading that? but you probably don't want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Lysical on Tumblr for helping me slay the Procrastination Beast, even though this chapter ended up being even shorter than I planned.

Jason woke up that morning feeling more comfortable than he had in a long time. It wasn’t just the soft bed- that hadn’t changed- but also the loss of the fear that had churned in his gut nearly every time he woke since he first left the apartment.

For a moment he basked in the peaceful feeling, the assuredness of having necessities guaranteed for once.

But of course, eventually he’d have to get up and actually face the day, which was much less comforting than the idea of the less-concrete future. He hadn’t exactly been _suave_ last night. He’d hugged Bruce. Actually _hugged_ him. Sure, Bruce hugged him back, but…

If retroactive anxiety was a thing, Jason definitely had it.

Jason stayed in bed until the last possible moment, but ultimately he had to admit that he needed food. He’d slept in way past breakfast, but he sill had those oranges from yesterday’s breakfast, which was good enough.

He peeled and ate the first one on his way down to the library. He’d finished _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ (and watched the movie with Bruce) but Alfred had been hinting that Jason should read Shakespeare for a while so he planned to start in on _The Comedy of Errors._

Jason was struggling through the first page when someone spoke up above him. “Shakespeare, huh? Alfred must have gotten to you.”

Jason startled and turned a furious red. He wondered how long Bruce had been watching him stalled on the first page. It wasn’t like he hadn’t read hard books before. Fancy language shouldn’t be giving him this much trouble.

Bruce circled the chair and held out his hand for the book. Jason surrendered it, figuring Bruce was going to put it away. Instead, Bruce sat down in the reading chair closest to the one Jason was curled up in.

Bruce flipped open the book. “Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, and by the doom of death end woes and all.” Bruce switched to a different voice. “Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more. I am not partial to infringe our laws. The enmity—“

Jason cut him off. “What are you doing?”

Bruce looked up. “These are always better out loud than on the page,” He said, “Since they were built to be performed.”

If anything, Jason turned even redder. “I can handle it. You don’t need to bother.”

Bruce shook his head. “A healthy understanding of Shakespeare is an absolute necessity in any Alfred run household.” He said it like it was supposed to be serious, but he smiled like it was a joke. “I think it’s time I brush up.”

Jason blinked “O—kay?”

With another smile Bruce went back to reading. “The enmity and discord, which of late sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke to merchants…”

For the first few minutes Jason stayed tense, uncertain of what was happening, but Bruce was good at differentiating voices, and with his occasional explanations whenever he sensed that Jason was getting lost, Jason soon found himself enjoying the wacky hijinx of the story.

They were well into the third act when Alfred called them to lunch.

After finishing the line he was on, Bruce got up and stretched. “I think that might be enough Shakespeare for one day.”

Jason pouted. “I want to know if Antipholus discovers his father in prison in time to save him.”

Bruce smiled. “I don’t think you need to worry Jay. It is a comedy, after all.”

“But still…” Jason whined.

“I’ll read you some more this evening, sound good? I do have to go to work this afternoon.”

Jason doubted that, since Bruce seemed to go to work only when it pleased him, but he acquiesced anyway.

Bruce held out a hand to help Jason out of his chair. “Come on, we don’t want to keep Alfred waiting. Much like Shakespeare, prompt arrival at lunch is a necessity.”

Jason snickered and took the offered hand, uncurling himself from the chair. “I think I agree with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Alfred a master manipulator who purposefully created this scenario so the Bruce would read to Jason? Yes, yes he is.
> 
> One might normally relate Jason “Holds his helmet like Yorik’s skull” Todd to one of Shakespeare tragedies, but on the surface there’s some pretty big similarities between his story and The Comedy of Errors. Also I’m fake deep.


	2. A Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just under the wire... Heh, sorry. I'll try not to do this again next week.  
> This chapter un-beta'd because I'm a procrastination monster.

Five twenty-five found Jason stationed in the foyer waiting for Bruce to get home. He hated not being able to fish the story on his own, but he had to admit that the reading was a bit beyond him. So Jason had the book ready and already open to the page they’d left off on, and was prepared to physically drag Bruce into the library if need be.

But when the door opened at five thirty-two (Jason was keeping track) it revealed a Bruce with a grim expression that told Jason there would be no more reading tonight.

Jason made to flee upstairs- it was never a good idea to stick around when someone bigger than him was in a bad mood- but Bruce stopped him with a word.

“Jason.”

Jason turned back around slowly. “Yeah?”

Bruce let out a long, slow breath. “We need to talk.”

Jason was immediately seized with fear. Had Bruce changed his mind about letting him stay?

“Let’s…” Bruce trailed off. “I think you should sit down.”

Jason glanced around at the barren foyer and felt an irrational urge to laugh. There weren’t exactly a lot of sitting options in here.

“Here,” Bruce said heading down the hallway. “We can talk in the study.”

After a brief pause to unlock the study door, Bruce led the way in. Despite his rising panic, Jason couldn’t help but examine one of the few rooms in the manor that he hadn’t seen yet.

The walls of the study were lined with bookshelves, though not nearly as many as the library boasted. The window in the back of the room had the drapes drawn, and the grandfather clock and oversized desk were both made of a darker wood than most of the furniture in the manor. It lent the room a heavy, claustrophobic atmosphere, despite the room’s actual size.

Bruce sat behind the desk and gestured for Jason to take the chair in front. Jason did, though not without a great deal of trepidation.

Without further preamble, Bruce began. “A few days ago, I started making inquiries about your situation.” Seeing Jason’s look, he tacked on, “Nothing that would alert social services- but, Jason, I found out about your father.”

“I don’t care about him.” Jason spat, his anxiety manifesting as anger.

“No, that’s not—“ Bruce took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have to find out like this.”

“Find out what?” Oh god, was his dad out? Would Willis come looking for him?

“A little more than three weeks ago now your father was involved in a fight in Blackgate. His injuries were bad enough that they transferred him to the hospital. The details are still unclear, but it appears that someone broke into his hospital room that night with a knife.” Bruce paused to make sure Jason was listening. “He’s dead, Jay.”

“Oh.” That was about the opposite of what Jason was expecting. He hadn’t even considered… He hadn’t even been entirely sure if his dad was still in prison.

“That’s after I came here.” Jason observed distantly. He felt like he had to fill the silence with some sort of reaction, and he hadn’t quite figured out what his actual reaction was yet.

Bruce winced. “I’m sorry Jay. If I’d started looking into this earlier—“

“No.” Jason cut him off. “No that’s… It’s fine.”

Confusion flashed across Bruce’s face, but all he did was nod.

“I’m gonna…” Jason stood up. “Um.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “Take all the time you need.”

 

* * *

 

When dinner rolled around, Jason was sitting in the center of his bed, knees tucked into his chest.

“Jason?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Are you in there?”

Jason blinked at the door, the words not quite registering.

“I’m coming in.”

Jason nodded, even though Bruce couldn’t see him, and a moment later the door opened.

“Hey kiddo. Dinner’s ready, if you’re up for eating.”

Jason looked up. “…Yeah.”

Bruce visibly struggled with something for a moment, but then sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay to be upset.” He tried.

Jason shook his head, feeling like he was on the verge of tears. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is?” Bruce said softly.

Jason curled up even tighter and pressed his face into his knees. “I’m supposed to be upset, right? I’m supposed to be sad.”

Bruce hesitated. “That is the general reaction, yes.”

“Then… Is there something wrong with me?” Jason choked back a sob. “Because all I feel is… relieved. That he won’t be coming for me.”

“Oh, Jason.” Bruce sighed. “You’re supposed to feel however you feel.” Bruce hesitated again. “He doesn’t seem like he was much of a father.”

Jason shook his head. “It was worse when he was there, because when he was there, mom wasn’t.”

Jason remembered the last time has dad had come home. Mom had been clean for almost three months, and it really seemed like maybe she was getting better for real. But then one day Jason had come home from school to find his mom checked out on the couch and his dad in the kitchen. His dad had only stayed three days before he vanished again, but by then was too late. Mom never managed more than a week or two after that, and she’d died six months later.

“Why did he keep coming back?” Jason asked. “Mom and me were better off when he wasn’t there. If he hadn’t come back…” The last word was punctuated by a sob, and Jason couldn’t manage to speak anymore.

Bruce shifted and reached out, pulling Jason into a hug. Jason uncurled a bit so that Bruce could wrap him up in his arms.

“Shhhh. Shhh Jay.” Bruce rubbed circles in Jason’s back while Jason sobbed shamelessly into his chest.

“I just wanted him gone.” Jason whispered. “Even when he was nice I wanted him gone. Does that make me a bad son?”

Bruce started rocking him back and forth. “No, god no. It’s okay to be glad he’s gone. And it’s okay to miss him. Which you might, sometimes. Either way, that’s about you, not about him. You don’t owe him anything.”

Jason sniffled. “Okay.”

They sat there for a long time. Jason’s sobs occasionally flared back up, but for the most part the two of them just sat there, Bruce still rubbing Jason’s back.

When he felt mostly recovered, Jason shifted and Bruce released him.

“I’m sorry.” Jason whispered, his voice to worn out for anything else.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bruce reassured him.

Jason snuffled. “I got snot and tears all over your shirt.”

Bruce smiled. “This isn’t the first time, and I doubt it will be the last.”

Jason perked up. “You mean Dick—“

“He’s always had trouble with nightmares.”

Jason attempted a smile, rubbing his eyes. “Well what did you guys do after?”

“This.” Bruce said, and Jason couldn’t help but shriek a little bit when he suddenly found himself thrown over Bruce’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“What the—“ Jason was about to ask when they were out the door and moving down the hall at a ridiculous speed. Jason was bouncing to much to ask where they were going, but they arrived at their destination (The kitchen, as it turned out) in record time.

“Just a sec.” Bruce said, setting Jason on the counter and going to rummage through the freezer. “I’m sure there’s some in here.”

Jason hadn’t even thought to ask what ‘some’ meant when Bruce was pulling something out with an “Aha!”

Bruce grabbed two spoons out of the drawer and jumped up next to Jason on the counter, revealing the object to be a carton of chocolate ice cream. He pealed off the lid, scooped out a bite for himself, and then offered the container and the other spoon to Jason. “Go ahead.”

Only a little bit wary, Jason took the spoon and the container and took a bite. “Mmmmmm,” he hummed, “Itsch good.”

Bruce took the container back for another bite. “That’s why I always keep some around.”

They’d passed the container back and forth a few more times when Alfred appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I hope you two aren’t ruining your appetites for dinner.”

Jason swallowed his bite. “Sorry Alfred.”

“We’re upholding a tradition.” Bruce added.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Then perhaps you might uphold the tradition of eating your dinner before it get’s cold.”

Jason hopped off the counter, smiling sheepishly. “What’s for dinner?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t go to the dining room.”

Jason put his spoon in the sink. “Be there in a second Alfred. I gotta wait for this slowpoke—“ He jabbed his thumb at Bruce. “—To put the ice cream away.”

“Hey!”

The corner of Alfred’s mouth twitched. “Then I shall expect you both in the dining room presently.”

Jason saluted. “Right-O.”

The second Alfred left, Jason Jumped back up on the counter and stole Bruce’s spoon out of his hand for another bite.

Bruce chuckled. “What happened to dinner?”

Jason stuck out his tongue and put the lid back on the ice cream. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly Jason, Alfred knows _everything._


	3. Utopia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) beta'd because she rules.
> 
> sorry I missed last week's chapter! I was in Oregon for the eclipse. 10/10 will do again in 10-20 years whenever there's another one.

It was several days before Jason had another serious conversation with Bruce. The only thing they talked about that entire week was Shakespeare. They finished _The Comedy of Errors_ and started _Much Ado about Nothing_. Jason had wanted to try one of the tragedies, but Bruce had claimed that he wasn’t in the mood for something dark. It was a thinly veiled attempt to keep Jason in good humor, but he let it slide. Bruce was probably trying to avoid dredging anything up, but Jason was fine, really.

Either Bruce realized that, or he decided he couldn’t put off the conversation any longer, because he finally brought up a serious topic at Friday breakfast.

Finishing his coffee, Bruce cleared his throat. “Since you’ve decided to stay here long-term, we need to make arrangements.”

_Arrangements_? Jason thought, putting down his fork. That could mean almost anything.

“You’re not supposed to be here. Legally, this is still a kidnapping,” Bruce continued, “But since there’s not going to be any competing custody claim, I can ask my lawyers to draw something up—“

Jason cut him off. “But you won’t call social services, right?”

Bruce sighed. “I can’t do this without involving social services in some capacity Jay, that’s just how this works—“

“No. No social services.” Jason said.

“Jason—“ Bruce tried.

“No.” Jason shook his head. “They’ll send my social worker after me again.” He pressed his white knuckled fists into the table, making a valiant effort to avoid crying or something equally embarrassing.

Bruce reached out putting his hands over Jason’s. “I promise, I won’t involve them until absolutely necessary. And I can request they give you a new social worker.”

Jason pulled his hands away and slumped down in his chair.

“Please, Jay,” Bruce added, “You can’t stay here illegally forever.”

“Why not?” Jason asked. It hadn’t been a problem before.

Bruce took a deep breath. “Well, for one, we often host guests at the manor, and we need to be able to explain your presence.”

Jason sunk even farther down in his chair. There hadn’t been any guests in the last month, but he supposed a place like this had to have them at some point.

“And secondly, you need to go to school.”

Jason perked up at that. “School?”

“I know you probably don’t want to, but you need to complete your education—“

Jason leaned over the table, causing Bruce to pause. “If we work this out legally, I can go to school?”

Bruce nodded. “Of course. That’s—“

“Alright.” Jason cut him off, making a split-second decision before he could talk himself out of it. “If you make sure my social worker can’t get to me, then yeah. Okay.”

Surprise flitted across Bruce’s face, but he nodded. “I’ll speak to the lawyer who helped me get custody of Dick this afternoon.”

Jason nodded, already wondering if he was going to regret this.

 

* * *

 

Jason was waiting in the customary chair in the library when Bruce got home that evening. He held out the manor’s copy of _Much Ado about Nothing_. He wanted to finish it tonight.

Bruce didn’t take it. “Actually Jay, I was thinking we could do a movie night.” He held up a DVD box. “Have you seen _Holes_?”

Jason shook his head. “But I’ve read the book.”

Bruce grinned. “Meet me in the theater in twenty minutes.”

Eighteen minutes later (Jason got impatient) he bounced into the home theater room, not sure what to expect. They’d watched movies in here before, but Bruce had never specified night specifically for a movie.

Bruce waved at him from the back of the room. “Go ahead and sit. Do you like butter or cheese on your popcorn?”

“Butter please.”

Bruce joined Jason on the couch, passing him a bucket of popcorn. “I got root beer so we could do floats, but Alfred says we have to wait until after the pizza is done.”

Jason started salivating at the mention of pizza. He was hungry. Not to mention that he’d never had a root beer float. Even when they had the money his mom was afraid that much sugar would have him bouncing off the walls.

“Sounds delicious,” he said, digging in to the popcorn.

“It should be. Alfred’s pizza is to die for.”

Jason was pretty sure _everything_ Alfred cooked was to die for.

Bruce started the movie. “I haven’t actually seen this one, but I hear it’s good.”

Jason snuggled down into the couch. “I sure hope so. The book was great.”

They settled down to watch the movie, only stopping when Alfred brought the pizza in.

“You know,” Jason said, as he finished his first piece, “So far, the only change I can find is that Stanley’s skinny.”

“Mh.” Bruce said. “You’re enjoying it then?”

Jason nodded vigorously. “It’s a good adaptation.”

“Maybe I should read the book.”

Jason sat up. “You should! People say it’s a kid’s book but it’s got a lotta complex stuff. Like _Harry Potter_ or _The Giver_. My teacher called it ‘social commentary.’ There’s more of it when we get to the Kissin’ Kate Barlow scenes.”

“I suppose we should start it up again then?”

Jason took a third slice. “Go ahead.”

Bruce hit play, then reached over and pulled Jason’s head down so he was leaning on Bruce’s shoulder. Jason’s mouth was too full of pizza to protest more than, “Mmph.”

“Shhh,” Bruce joked, “You’re interrupting the movie.”

Jason grumbled and jabbed Bruce in the ribs with his elbow as revenge, but didn’t struggle farther.

They watched the rest of the movie like that, and if Jason cried during the “I can fix that” scene, Bruce was polite enough not to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if that scene in Holes made you cry.


	4. Dystopia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd because I got sidetracked writing prompts and only just finished it.

After they finished _Holes_ Bruce and Jason watched _Finding Nemo_. Jason didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because one moment the animated fish was screaming for his son and the next Jason was being lowered into his bed.

He failed out clumsy arms, managing to catch Bruce’s hand. “Wha happnd?”

Bruce huffed what might have been a laugh. “You fell asleep. Sugar crash.”

That made sense. “mkay.”

Jason felt a hand smooth his hair away from his forehead.

“Get some rest, Jay.”

 

* * *

 

When Jason got down to breakfast the next morning. Bruce was on his phone.

“Yes, I understand.”

He paused.

“Just keep working.”

Another pause.

“No, obviously not over the weekend.” He chuckled. “You charge so much for overtime even I can’t afford it.”

Another pause.

“Thank you.”

Bruce hung up.

“What was that about?” Jason asked. He’d been learning that questions were fine, as long as he didn’t pry when Bruce just answered ‘work’.

“That was Mr. Tolman. He’s the lawyer I asked to look into your case file.”

Jason bit his lip. “And?”

“Luckily, it looks like your old caseworker was fired two months ago after a GCPD investigation. Unfortunately, several of her case files were lost in the shuffle, including yours, and the city computer systems are a bit of a mess.”

“So...” Jason shuffled his feet. “What does that mean for me?”

Bruce frowned. “I’m not sure. I’ll call commissioner Gordon on Monday. There’s a possibility those files ended up mismanaged in the evidence room.”

“Okay.”

Bruce smiled reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out. It just might take a little longer.”

Jason nodded.

“In the meantime,” Bruce continued, “We have plenty of Shakespeare to read.”

Jason perked up. “Can we read a tragedy?”

Bruce appeared to size him up. “One of the histories. After breakfast. And we have to finish _Much Ado About Nothing_ first.”

Jason grinned. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t talk about legal stuff until Monday evening, when Bruce brought it up again over dinner.

“You remember Barbara Gordon from the library, right?”

Jason nodded. “The Commissioner’s daughter.”

“She and her father will be joining us for dinner Wednesday.”

“What? Why?” The words escaped before Jason could stop them.

Bruce sighed. “Because I inquired after your case file, and it’s not that difficult to figure out.”

Fear shot through Jason. “The cops know I’m here?”

“The Gordons are family friends. He understands, and he wants to meet you before he acts.”

So it was up to Jason to convince the commissioner of police that nothing shady was happening.

 

* * *

 

Jason found that as Wednesday evening approached, his anxiety climbed. He needed to make a good impression, but he didn’t know how. He tried to help Alfred prepare dinner; only to be shooed out of the kitchen after his distracted state led him to nearly cutting his finger off. He tried to read, but found he couldn’t focus on the words. Eventually, he ended up in his room, wearing a track in the floor from his pacing.

Jason didn’t know when Bruce got home, but Alfred called him down for dinner at six on the dot.

With mounting trepidation, Jason went down to the foyer to greet their guests. Bruce wasn’t downstairs yet when he arrived, so Jason faced the Gordons alone.

Swallowing a lump of nerves, Jason walked up and held out a hand to shake. “Hello Commissioner. Nice to meet you.”

Mr. Gordon raised an eyebrow, but shook Jason’s hand. “You’re Jason, I assume?”

Jason nodded.

“Hello Jason.” Barbara spoke up. “Good to see you again.”

Jason tried to smile. “You too.”

“Wait,” Mr. Gordon said, glancing between the two of them, “You’ve met?”

Barbara smiled. She did it much more convincingly than Jason did. “Bruce brought him to the library a few weeks ago.”

“You’ve been here that long?” Mr. Gordon asked, startled.

Bruce had said honesty was best. “I didn’t want Bruce to tell anyone about it. Because of my social worker.”

Mr. Gordon’s face softened. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bruce came down the stairs.

“Jim! Glad you made it! That traffic can be awful.”

Mr. Gordon’s face did a weird spasm before his expression turned amiable. “I couldn’t let anything keep me from Alfred’s cooking.”

“Speaking of,” Bruce said, “He told me that dinner is served.”

Bruce led them back to the dining room, where Alfred was waiting.

“Quite the spread you’ve got here,” Mr. Gordon commented after he got settled. “What is this, crab chowder?”

“Lobster bisque.” Alfred supplied.

“Well it’s d’lishush.” Jason commented, mouth full of food, forgetting his manors entirely.

Barbara snickered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Jason didn’t really follow the conversation after that. Bruce and Mr. Gordon seemed to be talking about some sort of political campaign, and Barbara occasionally chimed in with comments about library funding. Despite his interest in the library, it wasn’t exactly the most engaging conversation, so Jason mostly preoccupied himself with shoving food in his mouth.

He was well into his second helping when Mr. Gordon put his fork down and proclaimed. “I think it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.”

Bruce put his fork down as well. “I agree.”

Jason looked up, sensing the atmosphere changing.

Mr. Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bruce, I can’t even tell you how illegal having him here is.”

Bruce sighed. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Call the police?” Mr. Gordo offered, “That would be the normal reaction.”

“I would’ve run.” Jason said loudly.

Mr. Gordon looked at him. “What?”

Jason felt a need to defend Bruce. “If he called the police, I would’ve run. I—“ Jason gulped. “—I’d be back where I was two months ago.”

Mr. Gordon looked from Jason to Bruce. “Be that as it may, this is still a kidnapping. You are aware of that, right? I should be arresting you right now.”

“But you aren’t,” Bruce said, “Because you know how important this is.”

“I’m not arresting you because you’re my friend, and I _trust you_.” Mr. Gordon stressed. “You did right by Dick after he lost his parents, but I—“ He sighed. “Look, I know you pulled strings then, and you can pull them now, but I want you to consider what’s best for him.” He indicated Jason. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you and Dick had some sort of falling out. Are you absolutely certain keeping him here is the best option?”

“It is the _only_ option.” Bruce said, his voice steely.

“Damn it, Bruce.” Mr. Gordon said. “Someone with your money and connections _always_ has options. I need you convince me that this is the best one.”

“Even if his father was still alive, he wasn’t fit to be a parent. His social worker—“

“WILL YOU QUIT TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT HERE?” Jason yelled.

Bruce and Mr. Gordon looked at him, startled. Barbara looked sympathetic.

“Why don’t you ask me what _I_ want?” Jason continued, at a more reasonable volume.

“Jason—“ Bruce started.

“No. I—“ Jason looked at Mr. Gordon. “—I like it here. After my mom died, I thought…” He looked down, chewing on his next words. They’d been true for a while, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to say them. He gulped. “I thought I’d never have a home again. But here’s been… Here’s been nice. Here’s been _home_. I like it here. I don’t want to leave. Please don’t make me.”

Mr. Gordon sighed. “It’s not a matter of making you leave. It’s just the fact that you being here is incredibly illegal. No matter how much you want to be here, in the eyes of the law, this is a kidnapping. It’s going to be a mess to sort out, even with all parties in agreement.”

Jason ducked his head even farther.

Mr. Gordon turned back to Bruce. “I’m on _your_ side here. I just need you to know how much of a risk this is.”

Bruce nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll talk to someone about finding those files, and we can see if we can get some sort of legal guardianship papers drawn up. If we handle this quietly, there shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Bruce sighed. “Since when has anything I do been quiet?”

As much as Barbara tried to restart the conversation after that, it was pretty clear that dinner was over, and a few minutes later Mr. Gordon stood up.

“I have to get to work early tomorrow. Tell Alfred the meal was wonderful.”

Bruce stood up and shook Mr. Gordon’s hand. “Of course.”

Barbara stood to follower her father out, but she stopped by Jason’s seat on her way out. She planted a kiss on his forehead. “It’s going to be hard,” she said softly, “But it’ll be worth it at the end, alright? Bruce can be difficult, but he clearly cares about you.”

Jason nodded. “I know,” He whispered.

She smiled. “I hope I’ll be seeing you around soon. Come visit me at the library sometime.”

Jason grinned. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of breaks because I had a lot of pieces of information to throw at you. It should go back to normal format next update.
> 
> I intend to mostly gloss over the legal aspect of keeping Jason, because I don't know a lot about the process. Af any of you do, feel free to leave a comment/suggestion! I just dont think I'll able to do it justice, so we're going to see a lot of people talking about it when Jason's not around and timeskips. Including, most likely, a long one before the next chapter.
> 
> I hope I make next week's update, but school is starting up again, so I'm not certain if I'll be able to. I may have to switch to a fortnightly update schedule. More on this as it develops.


	5. Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, as you may have noticed, this isn't much of a chapter. It was originally a part of the next chapter, but that one's really long and still not finished, so I split this off as a micro-update instead. there'll be a full chapter next week.
> 
> After next week I might be taking a hiatus. A million things are happening at once and my schedule is pretty much packed until mid November. I might be able to update, I might not, but I'm gonna warn y'all now.

Jason fiddled with his tie. He still wasn’t completely convinced it wasn’t going to strangle him.

“Stop that,” Bruce said, “I know you’re nervous, but messing with it is just going to make things worse.”

Jason sighed and dropped his hands to his lap. Bruce was right, much as he was loathe to admit it.

Bruce smiled. “Think about it this way—after tonight we’ll be done with this whole process. No more police, social workers, lawyers, or judges.”

“Thank god.”

Bruce laughed and ruffled Jason’s hair. “Plus you can start school next week.”

Jason stuck out his tongue while he flattened his hair back down. “I don’t see why I can’t start tomorrow.”

“Most kids would want to put off school as long as possible.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’m better than them.”

“Of course.” Bruce said gravely, but there was a sparkle in his eye.

The car stopped.

Bruce looked at Jason. “Ready?”

Jason tugged at his tie, but met Bruce’s gaze dead on. “Yes.”

Bruce nodded, and together they climbed out onto the courthouse steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you next week for actual events to happen!


	6. Dissonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta-ing!
> 
> I'm trying to strike a balance with Janet Drake here. There’s not much canon for her and the popular fanon interpretation is… not to my taste. Sorry if it seems off.
> 
> I skipped the signing of the paper moment because I felt like it would be redundant. Sorry for anyone who wanted that.
> 
> Might be an update next week might not.
> 
> *edit: This story is officially on hiatus. The good news is, it should come off hiatus before thanksgiving. Hopefully.

Jason flopped backwards on Bruce’s bed and scratched at his neck. Suits were _itchy_. “I don’t see why I have to go to this.”

Bruce finished tying his tie. “Because it’s the only way to stop the paparazzi from breaking into the manor to get a photo of you.”

Jason sat up and huffed. “That’s stupid.”

Bruce snorted. “How’s your hair?”

Jason ran his hands through it. “Fine.”

“Jason,” Bruce said.

Jason glared. “What?”

“You realize it’s standing on end.”

Jason stuck out his chin. “So?”

“ _So_ , what happened to wanting it flat?”

“I changed my mind.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Jason threw up his hands. “Fine! You win. I couldn’t get it to lie flat.”

Bruce laughed. “Here, I’ll help.” He scooped Jason off the bed (ignoring his startled yelp) and walked into the bathroom. He deposited Jason on the counter and started pulling out supplies. “Dick always liked having it gelled back, but your hair is too thick.”

Jason pouted. “Are you insulting my hair?”

“No, I’m saying you’re better of just combing it as best you can and leaving it at that.”

Jason nodded and allowed Bruce to attack his head with the comb. “What’s the best hairstyle to look tough?”

“Hm. Nothing you can pull off.”

“You don’t think I can look tough?”

Bruce tweaked Jason’s nose. “You’re too cute for that.”

Jason scowled, and Bruce went back to his hair.

“See? Cute.”

Jason closed his eyes and frowned. “Cute doesn’t get you anything.”

“Trust me, being cute will get you a lot farther with this crowd than being intimidating.”

Jason rephrased. “Cute doesn’t get you anything on the street.”

The comb stopped in his hair. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”

Jason opened his eyes. “What?”

“The—“ Bruce gestured vaguely “—The way things work around here. Has it been bothering you?”

Jason blinked. Two months ago, he would have brushed it off. Two months ago, Bruce hadn’t signed adoption papers. “Not… really? It’s just taking some time to adjust. And I don’t see why I have to use multiple forks at one meal.”

“Spending money like this isn’t a problem?”

“If you have it, may as well spend it.” Jason said frankly.

Bruce laughed.

“What?”

Bruce shook his head. “Nothing. But if you do have a problem, feel free to speak up about it.”

“I have a problem with going to this party.”

“That—“ Bruce put down the comb and helped Jason off the counter. “—Is non-negotiable.”

 

* * *

 

It only took fifteen minutes for Jason to decide he really hated fancy-people parties. People kept coming up and _cooing_ at him. And every time he put something in his mouth it felt like someone else wanted to talk.

It was maddening.

Plus there was all the pity looks and Bruce was acting weird. He’d warned Jason about it ahead of time but still. It set his teeth on edge. Like those creepy porcelain dolls in fancy stores. It just felt _off_.

And worst of all, this party was in a _history museum_ and nobody was even looking at the exhibits. (There was one on medieval weaponry, okay, how did nobody else find that cool?)

Bruce must have sensed Jason’s irritation, because he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder in the middle of chatting up some politician.

“Sorry, Glen. We might have to finish this later. Monday?”

Glen, who had clearly had one too many drinks already, guffawed and said, “Go on Bruce! Take care of your new son!”

Jason stiffened.

_“Take care of your son,” the man spat, “before I take care of him for you.”_

_Jason flinched back in fear._

_“Don’t talk about him like that,” Willis snapped, “He’s just a kid.”_

_“He needs to leave.”_

_Willis just sighed. “Jason, go bother your mother.”_

Bruce tugging him out of the main bustle of the party shook Jason out of the memory. “Sorry about that,” He was saying, “These things are exhausting, but the good news is we can call it a night after another hour.”

Jason nodded mechanically.

Bruce knelt down in front of him. “Is something wrong?”

Jason shook himself out of it. “I’m fine. Just tired is all.” He lied.

Bruce still looked worried. “Are you sure?”

“I’m su—“

“Brucie!” A voice shrieked from behind him.

Bruce’s eyes slid to the side, and he stood. “Hello Janet.” He said smoothly. “It’s been too long.”

Jason turned around slowly to face the woman. She was tall, with medium length light brown hair. She had a spark of intelligence in her eyes, which immediately set her apart from the rest of the crowd at this party.

“And you must be Jason!” She smiled a smile no more genuine than Bruce’s.

“Hello,” Jason said, taken aback.

The woman looked over her shoulder. “Jack! Come meet Bruce’s son!”

A man walked over from the dessert table, towing a small boy behind him. He smiled much more genuinely than Janet had and held out a hand to shake. “You’re Jason, right? Newest addition to the Wayne household!”

Jason shook his hand, surprised. Jack was the first person at this party to speak to him directly before Bruce. “Hello.”

Jack grinned and pushed the boy standing next to him forward. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, Timmy?”

The boy looked a little nervous, but he smiled at Jason. “Hi, I’m Tim.”

“…Jason.”

Jack put his hands on Tim’s head. “Tim here normally avoids these shindigs like the plague—“ _I don’t blame him_ , Jason thought. “—But he heard you were going to be here, and thought he might be overdue to tag along.”

Tim hunched his shoulders. “ _Dad_.”

Jack laughed. “Right. Well. Why don’t you two boys chat for a bit? Janet and I need to talk to the sponsors for our next dig, and I’m sure Bruce could use a drink.”

Jason looked up and saw his own panic reflected in Tim’s eyes. “Actually, I—“ Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and Jason stopped. He’d already been coached on manners, and this was definitely a signal to play along. “Sure.”

Jack and Janet beamed, before dragging Bruce off towards the bar with them, leaving Tim standing awkwardly next to Jason.

Tim scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

“S’fine.” Frankly, Jason had no idea why Bruce wanted him to play along with this, but he’d go with it. “You get dragged to things like this often?”

Tim shook his head. “Not really. They mostly let me stay home. I just mentioned that these things might be more bearable with another kid around. I think Tamara Fox might be here tonight too, but I haven’t seen her.”

“So far, I didn’t think anything could make one of these parties more bearable.” Jason said.

Tim snickered. “They’re not so bad. Half the people here are on diets which means there’s always way too much dessert.”

Now _that_ was something Jason could get behind. “Really? I haven’t been able to eat all night.”

Tim grinned. “I know all the best strategies for maximum dessert consumption if you want to join.”

“I’m going to be completely honest here and say that sounds awesome.”

 

* * *

 

One dessert raid later, Jason decided that he liked Tim well enough. He doubted they’d be _friends_ , per say, but he wasn’t unpleasant to be around. Not as much as everyone else at this party, anyway.

Tim lead him to a secluded corner of the hall tucked behind a display case and some strategically placed potted plants. Nobody would see them unless they came looking.

Tim immediately plopped down on the floor and started digging in to his cake with gusto. Jason watched awkwardly for a moment before sitting down next to him.

“You’ve done this all before?” Jason asked.

Tim swallowed. “A couple of times, yeah. Not here, but I’ve gotten pretty good at finding hiding places. The key is to not actually hide, so you have plausible deniability when people can’t find you.”

“Sounds like a hassle.”

Tim shrugged. “Such is the purview of the idle rich.”

“I don’t think you used any of those words correctly.”

Tim shrugged again and went back to his cake. “So,” he said between bites, “What’s living with Bruce like?”

Jason blinked at the non-sequitur. “Fine?” _Better than the streets,_ he didn’t say, though that was pretty obvious.

“It must get lonely, though, right?” Tim said absently, “With him leaving at all hours ‘n stuff.”

Jason tilted his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

Tim put his hand over his mouth, staring at Jason with wide eyes.

Jason frowned. “What?”

“No-nothing,” Tim stammered, “Just that he has late night stuff with the company, right?”

“What?” Jason repeated.

Tim’s eyes roamed around, looking for a way out, before fixing on a point somewhere behind Jason. “I uh. Umm. I think I hear my mom.”

He most certainly did not hear anything, but that didn’t stop him from dumping his cake in the nearest potted plant and vanishing into the crowd.

Jason stared after him, thoroughly perplexed. What the hell just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim needs to think about the things he says.


	7. Duality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is beta'd and for the most part unedited, but I did say thanksgiving weekend, so here's a micro-update to prove I'm not dead.

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about what happened at the party. He was certain he was missing some vital piece of the puzzle—the piece that would finally reveal the image. Instead, he was left with a few scattered clues and a lot of confusion.

After all, Tim had been _right_ about Bruce leaving late at night sometimes. If it was earlier in the evening he’d tell Jason he had to run to the office, but more than a few times Jason snuck downstairs to read in the library after midnight to read, and then heard footsteps in the hallway.

It didn’t make any _sense_. There was no reason for Bruce to get called in to the office at three in the morning, and even less reason for him to hide it. If someone called _Jason_ in to work at three in the morning, it was a safe bet that he’d whine about it the next day. Bruce never did.

Bruce was hiding something, Jason was sure of it. The question was _what_. Was he secretly running a criminal empire? Meeting up with women? Did he have a shameful video game habit he could only satisfy by sneaking off in the middle of the night to go to an arcade? All options were equally plausible, because Jason had no evidence of anything.

Obviously Timothy Drake knew, but the one time Jason had tried to get the answer out of him, (via phone call, with Bruce in the other room, saying something to Alfred about making friends) all he’d gotten were cagey half-answers and a tidbit about it ‘not being anything bad, don’t worry.’

Needless to say, it was driving Jason up the wall. The worst part was that the one way he could gather information—by sneaking down into the library late at night—was lost to him now that he’d started school.

Of course, school wasn’t the bad part, just the loss of intelligence gathering-time. School itself was great. They’d had him take a couple of tests the first day, and determined that the ‘interruption in his education’ wasn’t enough to worry about, especially since he was reading at a 12th grade level.

Bristol Elementary was miles above Park Row Elementary in terms of funding and good teachers, and even that was nothing compared to the private middle school Bruce promised to send him to.

Jason was already excited for that. He never thought he’d manage to graduate elementary school, let alone get a high school diploma from one of the top schools in the state.

It made him feel like he might actually have a future.

 

* * *

 

It was in the middle of Jason’s second week of school that things started to change. At school, Jason was settling in. He’d even found a group to sit with at lunch. At home though, things were a mess. Bruce was clearly losing sleep over something, though Jason couldn’t tell if it had anything to do with The Secret. Even Alfred seemed to be feeling the effects of whatever it was. There was a notable decrease in complicated meals, and a notable increase in Jason getting actual sandwiches in his lunch instead of fancy casserole.

Jason tried asking about it, but the only answers he ever got were of the confusing and useless variety.

The whole manor stewed in palpable frustration. Jason’s over not knowing things, and Bruce’s over… something. Jason didn’t know. _That was the problem._

Jason tried his best to not let the issue affect him at school. His position with his lunch group was still tenuous. They’d told him to stop asking if he could sit with them, but conversation still felt stilted sometimes. Better than conversation was with the kids back in the alley, but without the natural flow Jason had with Bruce or Alfred—or, hell, even Timothy before he got all weird.

The best of the lunch group by far was Marie Schneider. She was the unquestioned leader of the troop, and was the one Jason had secured his permanent invitation from on Tuesday.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Jason asked, still nervous despite himself.

Marie glanced at him. “No.”

Jason sat.

“You know,” she said, “you don’t need to ask. We’ve got plenty of seats.”

“Okay.”

From then on, Jason sat with them without asking and nobody kicked up a fuss.

It wasn’t likely that they’d kick up a fuss anyway, since most of them were pretty shy. Nathan Daniels never talked except to answer math questions, and the twins Ryan and Cody pretty much only talked to each other. They took to Jason even faster in gym than at lunch, because they were all equally terrible at capture the flag, and discovered the first day it came up in the game rotation that Jason was at least good enough to keep their losses from being _too_ embarrassing. They tended to stick close to him in gym after that, even in games he wasn’t all that good at.

“There’s no point in staying near me today,” he told Cody on Friday, “I’m terrible at dodge ball.” Jason had learned early on that running was usually a better strategy than dodging, so he’d gotten very good at running. Dodging, not so much.

Cody just shrugged. “You’re better than me.”

That was debatable, but Jason didn’t question it. He still felt like an outsider, which he supported was to be expected after only two weeks. Still, he didn’t think all of it was going to go away. Not after Marie asked him if he had any special talents.

“I can get a tire off a car in a minute flat.”

Ryan leaned forward and grinned. “Cool! How’d you learn? Is your dad a mechanic or something?”

Jason shook his head. “Some other kids taught me.”

“What for?”

Jason had the sudden realization that sharing this was a bad idea.

“For, you know, stuff” Jason waved his carrot stick around to punctuate.

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just… stuff.”

“I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue.” Cody said.

Jason grinned, happy to change the subject. “Cool!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for this long unplanned hiatus. Not that halloween is passed and school is settling down I should be able to finish this soonish. I make no promises about the actual date, but it won't be three months from now. For anyone still here, thank you for your patience!


	8. Singularity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "it won't be three months from now" she says, fully intending to finish this fic before the new year. Obviously that didn't happen. Life got a little crazy, however, it should be at least partially back on track now.
> 
> As always, many thanks to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta-ing!

Bruce wasn’t home for dinner on Friday. Bruce hadn’t been home for dinner all week. Jason tried to let it go. Bruce was busy. Jason wasn’t a baby. He didn’t need someone around all the time. If he got lonely Alfred was around.

It sounded hollow, even in Jason’s head.

The truth was that his mind kept going back to his father. How whenever he came home he’d promise to stay, to be there to _help_ Jason and mom. How mom always believed him right up until he started getting angry and vanishing again.

But Bruce wasn’t Willis. He wouldn’t get angry and vanish… Right?

Jason just wished Bruce was home. Wondering about Timothy Drake’s strange revelation had been fun at first, but now it just dragged. Especially since Jason was sure it had something to do with why Bruce wasn’t around. At this point, Jason didn’t even care what it was. He just wanted Bruce home.

Jason stayed up late reading, trying to drown poisoned thoughts in his latest foray into Shakespeare— _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. He didn’t like it as much as _The Comedy of Errors_ , but then again, it was harder to understand without Bruce doing the voices.

He was trying to puzzle out a particularly tough bit of dialogue when he heard footsteps in the hall. He nearly dropped the book in his fumble to put the bookmark in quickly. He jumped off his bed and threw open the door. “Bruce! You’re home!”

Bruce, already a few feet past Jason’s door, froze. “Just for a little while. I thought you were asleep.”

Jason shook his head. “Nah, reading. Speaking of, wouldja mind explaining this bit? I’m not sure I understand—“

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Not now, Jay.”

Jason recoiled. “Oh, Ok. I uh, I guess you must be tired. I’ll, um. Bye.”

He stepped back inside his rom and closed the door as quickly as he could without slamming it.

He waited until he heard Bruce’s footsteps recede down the hall to start crying.

 

* * *

 

Jason felt numb. He didn’t see Bruce again all weekend, and it felt like emptiness was spreading throughout his body. Pushing emotions farther and farther away by the hour, Jason knew that the numbness would resolve into something eventually, but right now, all he felt was exhausted.

The numb feeling carried him all the way through school on Monday, right up to the final bell.

He stepped out the door just the way he always did, turning towards the parking lot, but then he froze.

Jason didn’t _want_ to go back to the empty manor. Alfred was good company, but the house just felt… still. Dead. The numb would only grow there.

Jason turned the other direction, towards the city bus stop. He needed to breathe. To talk to someone who knew him. The real him. More than the friends (acquaintances) he’d made here knew him.

Jason had enough for a bus fare in his pocket from what Bruce called “allowance”—more than enough. Enough to buy some of his old friends a hot meal.

Jason started walking.

 

* * *

 

The numb didn’t go away for the half hour long bus ride into the city, or through two bus transfers and an old lady asking him what “a nice lad like him” was doing in “such a nasty part of town.”

In fact, the numb didn’t go away until he was well into his old neighborhood.

He had planned on finding a few of the kids that helped him when he was on the streets, but instead he found himself outside of his mom’s old apartment building. The door was unlocked and no one bothered trying to stop him from going in. Typical.

Jason climbed the cigarette-strewn rickety staircase up to the fourth floor. The door to what used to be their apartment wasn’t even closed. Why bother? Jason pushed down a swell of anger—the first emotion he’d felt since Friday—and stepped inside.

The place was empty—Crime Alley Real Estate wasn’t exactly in-demand—and cleaned out. Of all the things Jason had left here, only a single, rickety chair and the cracked, wall mounted mirror remained. Everything smelled like mildew, more so than it had even a few months before, and there was water damage creeping along the walls. The air tasted stale.

Jason dropped his backpack on the floor in a heap. Distantly, he knew he should be on a bus back to the manor before it got dark—his nicer clothes would mark him as an easy target after dusk—but he couldn’t seem to move from the spot. He wanted to walk into the other room, lie down on the bed, and wait for his mom to come rouse him for dinner. It’d be ramen noodles—they hadn’t had much else those last few months, but she’d rouse herself enough to make it, even if she was blissed out again by the time he fell asleep.

Of course, there was no bed in the other room. There was no moth-eaten couch for his mom to rise from, no pallet of ramen noodles on the counter.

No reason for Jason to be here.

Jason stalked over to the mirror. Why was _it_ the thing that remained? All the cracked, grimy glass ever showed were bad things. His mother, unseeing on the couch. The way Jason’s black eye from one of the bigger kids in the apartment covered half his face. A crime alley kid in the wrong clothes, pretending he could get on a bus before nightfall and avoid everything wrong with this place.

Suddenly Jason felt angry. Angry about having come from this place, angry about leaving. Angry about how since he’d gotten his new sweatshirt he was just trying to look like the kids at is new school. Trying to look like Bruce’s kid.

Jason twisted around, stomped across the floor and grabbed the rickety chair. Then he turned back and _hurled_ it at the mirror with all his strength.

The chair, already all but rotted through, broke apart on impact. A new spider web of cracks spread across the mirror, but it didn’t shatter.

Shaking now, Jason seized one of the chair’s stronger legs and swung it at the mirror. The leg creaked and groaned in his hand, but held. The mirror was not so lucky. Shards of broken glass cascaded to the floor from the now broken top half of the mirror. The bottom of it stayed in place, held to the wall with an adhesive older than Jason.

Jason raised the chair leg again, but then felt it slip through his fingers, thumping into the floor. Jason followed it down, shaking too hard to stand. Even with the cracks cutting across it, he could still see his face in the bottom half of the mirror, features twisted and ugly with rage and hate.

He looked just like Willis.

Jason fell forward onto his elbows and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry for the tonal whiplash....
> 
> I promise this fic *will* be finished, though after last time I'm not making any promises as to when.


	9. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that the chapter counter is back to having a question mark--that's because I realized that there's probably more than three more chapters after this one. It'll have a number again once I fix my chapter plan.
> 
> thank you to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta-ing!

It was dark by the time Jason gathered his wits enough to stand. He wasn’t surprised nobody had come to investigate the thumping and broken glass. That was just part of life in the Alley.

Jason wiped the last of his tears away and reached for his bag. He’d need to get to a bus stop quickly, or else hunker down for the night. He didn’t want to be caught out, looking vulnerable and without a weapon to defend himself.

He swung the bag up onto his shoulders, but then felt a shooting pain in his knee. He looked down. An inch long piece of glass was sticking out of his pants. How hadn’t he noticed that before?

Jason reached down and slowly, carefully, pulled the shard out. It hadn’t gone in that deep. Barely more than a quarter of an inch, but pulling it out still sent droplets of blood rolling down his leg. Jason dropped his backpack again and started rifling through it. A band aid would be too small, but he had one in there somewhere. The sound of crumpling paper was almost loud enough that he didn’t hear footsteps outside the apartment. Almost. Instead, he heard them just in time to panic, grab his bag and run into the other room. He was just jumping into the curtain less shower, lips pressed shut to quiet his breathing, when he heard voices.

“I’m tellin ya man, ain’t no way he hid nothing here. It’s been cleared out.”

“Hey, did _you_ want to argue with the boss? Better to check through here quickly and get back.” A deeper voice replied.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jason heard the sounds of heavy boots moving through the apartment, and his heart jumped into his throat. These weren’t his neighbors, or even squatters. They were here looking for something.

Which would mean they were searching the apartment.

The apartment Jason was hiding in.

_Oh god._

Jason pressed himself into the corner of the grimy shower. He heard footsteps coming toward the bathroom. Jason reached in his backpack, hoping for a weapon, a distraction, anything. His hand closed around a pair of safety scissors. He curled up, scissors facing out, maybe if he got at the guy’s eye…

“Hey, wait!” a voice yelled from the main room.

The footsteps stopped. Started receding.

“What is it?” That was the deep voice. He was annoyed.

“Look at this blood. It’s still wet.” The first voice said. “Someone’s been here recently.”

“Or they’re still here.”

Jason froze.

“Get your gun out.” Deep voice said, in what must have been his approximation of a whisper. Louder, he yelled, “WHOEVER’S HERE, COME OUT.”

Jason curled up into a tighter ball. Hell no, he wasn’t walking out there just to get shot.

“They’re either in the closet or the bathroom.” Jason heard Deep Voice say. You check the—“

Somewhere in the apartment glass, shattered and the first voice yelped. Jason heard the sound of an impact, and then a gun went off.

The sound echoed through his skull, even through two walls, but the silence that followed seemed worse. It stretched out; second by second, and with each heartbeat Jason’s fear mounted. Somehow not knowing what was out there was even worse than knowing there were men with guns.

Jason felt tacky warmth spread down his leg. His knee was still bleeding. He strained his ears to pick up any sound and—words, too indistinct to make out what they were, but they sounded angry. Growly. Jason started picking at the screw holding the scissors together. Maybe he could use the halves as knives whenever someone came in here.

There was a yell and another crash and Jason jumped. He wished he was anywhere but here. He wished he was back at the manor, curled up with a book. He didn’t care if Bruce was busy. Lonely in the library was better than lonely and terrified in the Alley, with no way out and no way to defend himself. What was he _thinking_ , coming back here?

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold in tears. If he made even a sound, that third voice would come back here for him, he just knew it.

The indistinct voices in the other room rose into yells. “I DON’T KNOW! YA HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! ALL I WAS TOLD IS HE STOLE SOMETHING FROM THE BOSS!” That was the first voice, the higher-pitched one.

“I don’t care.” The new voice growled, low. “I want to know how Two-face is giving you orders from inside the asylum.”

“We ain’t telling you nothing.” Deep Voice spat.

There was a thump and a yell. “Care to reconsider.”

Jason didn’t catch the man’s answer, but he didn’t care, because he recognized the growly voice.

But there was no way. Why the hell would _Batman_ be in Jason’s old apartment?

“Now,” Batman said, low, “Those were the kind of questions I break fingers for. If you answer the next one in a way I do not like, I will break your arm. Are we clear.”

The man must have nodded, because Batman continued. “You are going to tell me what your…colleagues… did with the boy.”

“The… boy? What boy?” There was genuine confusion in Deep Voice’s voice.

Batman growled. “Wrong answer.”

“Wait, Wait!” Squeaky voice cut in. “Are you talking about Todd’s boy?”

A pause. “What other boy would I be referring too.”

“We haven’t done anything to ‘im, honest! Last we heard, _Bruce Wayne_ had him. And the boss didn’t want to go after Wayne.”

“That hasn’t stopped him before.”

“Yeah, when he had beef _with Wayne_. The kid ain’t worth it. Not yet.”

With a start, Jason realized they were talking about him. Why would they be talking about him? Batman _knew_ he was staying with Bruce. Batman _brought_ him there.

Unless… maybe Bruce or Alfred had done something when he didn’t go home from school. They wouldn’t have called the police on him, would they?

“You’re going to stay here until the police arrive,” Batman was growling, “and when they get here, you are going to tell them everything you know.”

“No way, boss’d kill us,” Deep Voice said.

“Are you more afraid of a man in prison, or of me?”

There was a moment of quiet and then, “Think about it.”

“Hey!” High Voice said, “Hey wait! You can’t leave us! There’s someone else here!”

A pause.

“What.”

“There’s—look over there. That blood’s fresh.”

“Don’t move.” Batman hissed.

Jason barely had a moment to process what was happening before the bathroom door flew open. On reflex, he threw the pair of scissors still clutched in his hands as hard as he could.

They bounced off Batman’s chest without prompting so much as a flinch, and Jason gulped.

Batman glanced down at the pair of scissors on the floor, and then over at Jason. “What are you doing here.”

Jason shrank back. His last encounter with Batman hadn’t exactly gone well. “What’s it to you?”

“You didn’t go home from school.”

 _Shit_. So Bruce or Alfred—well, probably Alfred— _had_ called somebody.

“So?” Jason shot back. “I can go places if I want to. In fact I was just leaving.” He stood slowly, pulling his backpack on and trying to hide the way his legs shook. “I’ll just—“ He tried to slip past Batman out the door, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing the back of his hoodie. “Let me _go_.”

Rather than releasing him, Batman lifted him up. “I’m taking you home.”

“Hey!” Jason yelled, kicking out, “Put me down!”

Batman didn’t appear to hear him, instead transferring Jason to a fireman’s carry and bending over to retrieve the scissors off the floor.

“LET GO OF ME!” Jason screamed, pounding at Batman’s back with his fists. He could feel more wetness soaking through his pants. He hoped batman had to clean smeared blood off his suit. That would show him. He kicked hard with his injured leg and regretted it as soon as his knee protested. This, as it turned out, was even less effective than the scissors had been, as Batman didn’t even acknowledge the attack, instead walking out into the main room again.

Jason was subjected to more jostling when Batman picked up the shard of glass with Jason’s blood on it off the floor and put it in his belt, and the new position allowed him to make eye contact with one of the two men sprawled out on the floor, hands and feet zip tied behind their backs.

“Seriously?” The man asked. This one was High Voice. “You question us about the kid and he was here the whole damn time?”

Batman did not dignify that with an answer. “The police will be here soon. You may want to think about your confessions.”

Batman stepped toward the window, and Jason realized what was happening at about the same time the man did.

“Hey, Wait—“ The man said, exactly as Jason redoubled his attacks in an effort to get free before they were out the window. Too late, Jason heard a mechanical _Pop_ and then they were in free fall.

Jason may have screamed before the sensation of falling leveled out into a swing. They landed with barely a jolt, though Jason was still breathless from screaming. Before he recovered his wits, Batman pulled him off his shoulder. Jason hoped he was about to be put down, but instead he was deposited in a car seat. A _Batmobile_ car seat. Jason was no happier to be in this car than he was the first time. He took advantage of Batman circling the car to jump into the other seat to attempt escape, but he was just tugged back down while the canopy slid closed.

Jason crossed his arms while Batman started the car. “I can get myself home.”

“It’s nearly dark.”

“So?”

“Nine-year olds shouldn’t be alone in the city after dark.” The car pulled out onto the street.

Jason jutted his chin out. “I can take care of myself.”

Batman didn’t take his eyes off the road. “hn.”

“I _can_.” Jason insisted.

Batman didn’t reply, and Jason had to content himself with kicking the dashboard repeatedly. “Why do you care, anyway?” _I’m just a former street rat—well, maybe current, if Bruce called the police on me._

“The people who killed your father may come after you.”

 _That_ was not the answer Jason expected. “What?”

“They are dangerous, and whatever they had him killed over is still unresolved.”

“But he’s _dead_ ,” Jason said, incredulous, “Why would they want _me_? Do they—would they want me to take his place?” He’d heard of that happening, in the Alley. It happened with teenagers, mostly, but if a parent couldn’t pay a debt to a gang it wasn’t unheard of for the gang to coerce their child into joining as a method of repayment. Usually though, the kid was already involved in crime in some way. The gangs didn’t want people who hadn’t proven they could pull their weight.

Jason looked down at his hands. Did they think that about him already? Could they already see how much he took after his father?

Batman interrupted Jason’s spiraling thoughts. “No. But they may think he confided in you, most likely about the location of something he stole from them.”

Jason snorted. “He’d never have trusted me with something like that.”

“They don’t know that.”

“So what? ‘s not like I can do anything about it. Isn’t it _your_ job to catch the bad guys?”

Batman’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Don’t come into the city again without supervision.”

Jason aimed a savage kick at the dashboard, but his knee twinged and he could feel more blood spreading, so he dropped his leg and sank lower in his seat. His books dug into his back through his backpack, so he yanked it off and tossed it into the foot well with disgust. “Might not have a _choice_ ,” he grumbled.

“What.”

Jason looked at Batman. “Aren’t you supposed to know everything?” he spat, rage spilling over, “Bruce is getting cold feet.”

“He’s what.”

“Cold feet, ya’know? I thought it might pass but—“ Jason gulped down a swell of emotion. “—He called the cops on me so…”

“He didn’t call the police.”

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Wayne didn’t call the police.” Batman repeated. “He called me, because you were missing.”

“Woah, woah, wait. He has your phone number!?”

Batman didn’t smile, but his scowl did turn less severe. “Why do you think I brought you there?”

Jason shuffled his feet across the Batmobile floor. He hadn’t thought of that.

“You think he’s getting cold feet.”

It wasn’t a question, but Jason answered anyway. “I mean, I thought… well, he adopted me, yeah? I’ve been living there for months now, but…”

“But?”

Huh, that was the first time Batman had ever delivered a question as a question.

“But he’s been gone a lot, and…” Jason shook his head. He didn’t want to relive the snub. “He’s been distant, is all. I think he’s having second thoughts.” Jason had to look out the window for the last part. He didn’t want to see whether Batman’s scowl could turn into an expression of pity.

“Why would he…” Batman paused, contemplating. “Why would he adopt you if he wasn’t certain?”

Jason jerked one shoulder up. “I dunno.” _Because I’m like my dad. Because I’m unlovable. Because he saw that before even I saw it._

“I’ll look into it.”

Jason twisted sharply to look at Batman. “What?”

“I won’t leave you in a situation where you’re being mistreated, Jason. I can always find somewhere else,” Batman said gravely, “But I do need you to stay there until I catch the people responsible for your father’s murder. It’s secure. Afterward, if you still want to be moved, I’ll move you.”

Jason opened his mouth to say _of course_ he didn’t _want_ to be moved; he just thought maybe _Bruce_ wanted him gone. But he felt a sob building, so he closed his mouth. It’s not like he needed to spill his guts to Batman anyway.

They rode the rest of the way to Wayne Manor in silence.


	10. Daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just gotta say, [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) is a great beta who doesn't even make fun of my when I send her the wrong chapter.

The Batmobile pulled into the manor’s driveway after doing something to the gate. Batman stopped the car, but made no move to open the canopy. “You are going to go up to the door, and wait for the butler to take you inside. I will watch the entire time. Are we clear?”

Jason started to protest, but Batman silenced him with a look. “This is to ensure you won’t make another run away attempt.”

“But I—“

“It is unsafe for you to be anywhere other than here or another supervised location right now. What almost happened today should tell you how serious this is.”

Jason scowled. “Fine.”

Batman nodded, and hit the canopy release.

Jason jumped out as fast as he could, grabbing his backpack, and ran for the door, eager to get as far away from the man as possible, even if it meant going inside the house. His knee protested the rough treatment by resuming bleeding and sending shooting pain up Jason’s leg.

Jason pounded on the door, feeling frustrated. Knocking just reminded him how much of a stranger he still was here. The oversized door loomed over him, a monolith to his failures. Even the swing hanging from the tree behind him looked like a menacing shadow in the dark.

The door swung inward, letting light spill out onto the steps. It stopped at about halfway open, Alfred freezing in surprise.

“Master Jason?” Alfred sounded relieved, scanning Jason up and down. “What happened to your knee? How did you…” he trailed off, looking over Jason’s shoulder, presumably at the Batmobile. “...oh. Well, come inside.”

Jason stepped inside, dropping his backpack, and Alfred closed the door behind him without a second glance toward the car in the driveway.

“Have you eaten?” Alfred asked.

Jason shook his head.

“I’ll heat something up after we tend to you knee, then.”

Jason nodded and followed Alfred to one of the downstairs bathrooms. It was only after he was seated on the closed toilet while Alfred pulled the first aid kit out of the cupboard that he finally spoke.

“Is Bruce home?”

This time it was Alfred’s turn to shake his head. “He was called out on some urgent business, I’m afraid.” He opened the kit and pulled out the antibiotic jelly. “Hm. These pants are a loss, I’m afraid.” He reached for the scissors.

Jason tried to protest. “They’re fine! It’s only a little blood.” He reached down to try to pull the hem of his jeans up over his knee, but Alfred pushed his hands away.

“It would be better not to aggravate it any more.”

Jason relented, allowing Alfred to cut the blood-dampened fabric away and pull the bottom half of the pant leg off.

“Washing this may sting a bit.” Alfred warned, filling what looked like a strange squirt bottle out of the tap. “But you’re lucky. It doesn’t appear to need stitches.”

Jason nodded, resolute. He bit his lip to keep from yelling as Alfred washed the cut out and applied the antibiotic ointment. There were two butterfly closures on and Alfred was unrolling bandages when Jason recovered enough to think again.

“There you are,” Alfred said, taping down the bandage, “good as new.”

Jason tried to stand, but Alfred pushed him back down. “Let me put away the kit first.”

Jason watched Alfred methodically repack the first-aid kit with dazed eyes. With all the excitement wearing off, his eyelids were starting to droop.

“Come on, Master Jason.” he heard Alfred say, “Food, and then bed.”

Jason nodded and got up. Somewhere between the bathroom and the kitchen he went from walking beside Alfred to leaning on him, something Jason only realized when he was gently pushed down onto a chair.

Jason stared off into space while Alfred prepared a plate of food. “When will Bruce be back?”

Alfred paused. “He did not specify a timetable.”

Jason looked down at his freshly bandaged knee. On the one hand, he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to face Bruce right away after he ran away. On the other, this confirmed all his fears. If Bruce didn’t bother to come home after Jason went missing, then…

Alfred set a plate of reheated salmon and potatoes in front of him, and Jason blinked at it, confused.

“Food, and then sleep, Master Jason.” Alfred reminded softly. “Master Bruce will be home by morning.”

Jason ate slowly, forcing down each bite. When he stalled out about halfway through the plate Alfred sighed.

“Alright, off to bed with you.”

Jason wouldn’t have been able to say how he got up to his room, because the next think he knew he was falling into bed. He was asleep before he could even strip off his ruined jeans.

 

* * *

 

Jason woke slowly, emerging from a dense fog of half-formed nightmares. His stiff knee and heavy limbs made him want to roll over and go back to sleep, but the light filtering in through the curtains stabbed at his eyes. In his efforts to turn away from the painful light, he caught a glimpse of the alarm clock and sat bolt upright. Nine O’clock!? Had he slept through his alarm?

Jason tossed off the covers and ran into the bathroom, furiously brushing his teeth. He’d already missed an hour, but if he rushed he might make it to school before lunch. He spat out his toothpaste and threw the brush in the sink, pulling his shirt over his head as he ran to the closet. He grabbed a fresh one, lamenting his skipped shower. He dressed in clean (and whole) pants and socks. He wasted a full minute hunting under his bed for his backpack before he remembered it was still downstairs.

Jason took the stairs three at a time, getting all the way to the door before he remembered he needed Alfred to give him a ride. He ran back upstairs, and he was sprinting down the hall, trying to remember where Alfred normally was this time of day, when an arm caught him around his middle, stopping him in his tracks.

“Where are you going in such a rush?”

Jason looked up into Bruce’s eyes and gulped. He’d thought Bruce would’ve already been at work by now.

“Bruce,” Jason gasped, out of breath, “…was looking…for…Alfred.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “At mach 10?”

“…late….for…school.” Jason panted.

Bruce shook his head. “I already called you in sick.”

“What?” Jason yelped, “I’m not sick!”

“No,” Bruce said, all traces of humor gone, “But you did stay up late last night, not to mention you ran away from school yesterday.”

Jason froze. “But I—“

Bruce knelt down, putting his hands on Jason’s shoulders. “Jason, we need to talk. And I can’t let you leave the house until I’m certain you won’t try something like that again, alright?”

Jason looked down. “I won’t—“

“Jason, look at me.”

Jason looked up.

“I don’t want to trap you anywhere, but I _do_ want you to be safe. You can miss a few days of school while I make sure school will still be safe for you.”

Jason’s turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t have to make eye-contact. “I just don’t want to be home alone.”

“Who said you’d be alone?”

“I mean, I know Alfred’s here, but he’s got work and…”

Bruce put a hand under Jason’s chin, turning his face forward. “I didn’t mean Alfred.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “I thought you had work?”

Bruce smiled, lopsided. “It can wait a few days.”

“Really?”

“I’m not going to promise that I won’t have to work some, but I’ll try to be home. That is, if you want my company?”

Jason nodded, blinking wetness out of his eyes.

Bruce reached out and ruffled Jason’s hair. “C’mon, lets get some breakfast into you. You said you were working on _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , right?”


	11. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to awesome betas like [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) who beta things over vacations.
> 
> aaaaaand we're closing in on the finale! I had hoped to be able to fit Clark, Diana, and Maybe more Tim in before the end, but no dice. sorry! (whether I do some one shots to explore those paths after this is over remains to be seen)
> 
> Also, the chapter counter has *finally* been fixed. I thought I fixed it before but due to a profound act of bimbusdom i somehow had two chapter twelves.... the more the merrier?

Jason spent a great three days hanging out with Bruce at home, but eventually the backlog of assignments built up enough that they both admitted it would be best if he went back to school. As much as he wanted to go, Jason clung to his last few hours with Bruce that Thursday night. He feared that after he went back to school Bruce would vanish again, and he’d be right back where he started.

It was probably Bruce sensing those fears that lead to Thursday’s after-dinner conversation.

“Do you want to invite any of your new friends over?”

Jason glanced up from the page of _Midsummer_ he was attempting to decipher before he let Bruce explain it to him. “What?”

“You mentioned you’ve made a few friends. Would you like to have any of them over?”

Jason blinked at him. Sure, his new friends were cool, he supposed, but he hadn’t really thought about _hanging out_ with them. They were the kind of friends you band together with for safety, not the kind you go out of your way to spend time with.

At Jason’s silence Bruce said, “No? What about Timothy Drake?”

“What?”

“You two hit it off at that party, and it might be nice to get to know him, since you’ll likely see him at other parties in the future.” Bruce explained patiently.

Sure, Jason thought, you could maybe say they’d gotten along, but he wouldn’t call that ‘hitting it off’.

“If you don’t want to, that’s alright,” Bruce continued, “I just want you to know you can if you want to.”

Jason pondered it a moment, but shook his head. The only reason he’d want to see Timothy would be to extract information from him, and he doubted he’d get anything conclusive.

They lapsed into silence while Jason picked his way through a few more lines. He thought he might be beginning to understand what was happening in the story, but he handed the book to Bruce anyway.

After Bruce explained the scene, he said, “Dick mentioned wanting to visit this weekend.”

Jason twitched, remembering Dick’s disastrous previous visit.

Bruce held his hands up, “I know, I know, but he wants to try again, and he promised not to start a fight.”

Jason looked at him. “And are _you_ going to start a fight?”

Bruce chuckled. “No. I thought it would be a good idea to go see a Knights game.”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “ _Sports_?”

“Or we could go to the boardwalk,” Bruce amended.

Jason blinked at him, surprised. “You’ll let me out in the city?”

“As long as you’re supervised.”

Jason’s face broke into a grin.

 

* * *

 

Jason bounced on his toes all through Saturday’s breakfast. He’d all but failed Friday’s math quiz and he’d spent most of the day scared that it would jeopardize the trip to the boardwalk, but Bruce had assured him that he couldn't very well be punished when he’d been kept home from school. That anxiety was replaced with a sort of nervous excited buzzing that had him taking the stairs down to the front door in fours and fives. He tripped and nearly fell on the last one, but was caught by the back of his hoodie about an inch from the floor.

“It’ll still be there in an hour, Jay.” Bruce rumbled.

Jason scrambled to his feet, and Bruce released his hoodie. “Yeah, but I want to _be_ there in an hour.” Jason looked around. “Where’s Dick?” He better not be late. Jason was ready to _go_.

“He’s running a bit late. He’ll meet us there.”

Jason nodded, grinning. “Socanwegothen?”

Bruce blinked. “I don’t see why not.”

Jason whooped and ran out the door, leaving Bruce to shout after him.

The car ride was significantly more subdued than exiting the manor had been, though Jason still buzzed with excitement.

“Do ya think I’m tall enough for the roller coaster?”

Bruce hummed. “I think so, but I have to warn you that it’s not much of a roller coaster.”

Jason shook his head. Still the only roller coaster he’d ever been on.

“Can I get cotton candy?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Jason grinned and kicked his feet happily.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“You are not going to even attempt to go off on your own.”

Jason deflated a bit. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

The boardwalk was everything Jason had dreamed it would be and more. Even before Dick met up with them, he had already stuffed himself with cotton candy, lost ten dollars trying to win something at the ring toss, and nearly thrown up in the roller coaster. (though that probably had more to do with the cotton candy than the coaster itself) He was sitting on a bench and taking slow sips out of a bottle of water when Dick arrived.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys!”

Bruce stopped rubbing soothing circles into Jason’s back and stood up to greet Dick. “You could have called.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air. “I did! You didn’t reply!”

“I did hear your phone chime a minute ago.” Jason said, wanting to head off an argument.

“And you didn’t say something?”

Jason shrugged. “I was a little busy.” Busy thinking that if he opened his mouth he was going to puke liquified blue cotton candy all over his shoes.

Bruce opened his mouth, then shut it. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Dick shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t keep it on vibrate.”

“Because I want to be able to hear my phone?”

“You can still hear it—“

“Hey,” Jason interrupted, hopping off the bench. “You said Dick would win me something at the ring toss.”

Bruce looked at him. “Is your stomach alright?”

Jason had nearly forgotten about his stomach. “Yep!” He grabbed Dick’s arm. “C’mon, I want a giant bear.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

As it turned out, Dick was not able to win a giant bear at the ring toss, but he did win one at the milk bottle throw so Jason supposed it was a moot point. They wondered all around the boardwalk, playing games and riding rides (with Bruce holding their loot while Dick took Jason on rides) for pushing three hours, which was when Bruce decided they should break for lunch. Jason probably would have tried every weird fried food the vendors had to offer if Bruce hadn’t limited him to only three kiosks, citing his earlier nausea. In the end, Jason had onion rings, blue lemonade, a corndog wrapped in bacon, and a chocolate crepe for dessert, while Dick went off to get Gyros for himself and Bruce. Jason was just polishing off his crepe when Dick got back, gyro-less.

Bruce stood when he saw the look in Dick’s eye, and leaned over the table to let Dick whisper in his ear. A quiet hushed discussion followed. Jason only caught a few words, like “don’t attract their attention,” and “—tailing us?” before it broke apart.

“Jay, what do you say to going to an ice cream place I know a few blocks away?” Dick asked.

Jason frowned. “There’s ice cream here.”

“Yeah, but no gelato.” Dick said, affixing a wooden smile to his face.

Jason looked from him to Bruce. “What’s going on?”

“Probably nothing,” Bruce said, stone faced, “But we should—“

That was when the gunshots rang out.

A woman screamed unintelligibly and everything seemed to move at once. Vendors ducked under counters, diners jumped away from tables like jackrabbits, and passers-by grabbed their children and ran in the opposite direction of the shots. Jason was unceremoniously shoved into Dick’s arms while Bruce hissed, “Get him out of here.”

Dick nodded, going down into a crouch behind the table and pulling Jason with him. “I’ll be back.”

Bruce shook his head. “Take your motorcycle, it’ll be closer. Get him home.” He practically shouted over the increasingly panicked screams. The trickle of people running past them was turning into a flood.

“Wait.” Jason said, attempting to twist out of Dick’s grip. “What’re you going to do?”

But Bruce was already gone.

Jason struggled against Dick’s hold. “Where’s he going, I have to—“

Dick didn’t appear to hear him, lifting Jason all the way up into a fireman’s carry and taking off across the boardwalk. In a matter of moments any clues about where Bruce might have gone were obscured behind vendor’s carts and more panicked crowds.

“Put me down!” Jason started to say, “I—“

“Be _quiet_ ,” Dick hissed, dodging a trio of frantic teenagers, “We need to get out of here.”

“But Bruce—“

“Bruce can take care of himself,” Dick cut him off, “but we have to get to the parking lot before any of them come this way.”

“Any of who?” Jason gasped, the blood rushing to his head from being held partially upside down finally getting to him.

“The people with guns.” Dick said, as if it was a stupid question.

“People? There’s more than one? But Bruce is still back there!”

“Which is why I need to get you out of here as soon as possible.” Dick said firmly, the even tone of his voice contrasting with the way he vaulted a table. It was only another few seconds before they were in the middle of the throng running to their cars. Jason was worried the crush would carry them past wherever Dick’s motorcycle was parked, so it was more than just a physical jolt wen Dick stopped dead, not even seeming to notice when a man shoulder checked him.

Dick swore. “Trap,” he said, just loud enough for Jason to hear.

“What—“

“Change of plans.” Dick said, somehow maneuvering them into a place where the crowd was less stampede-like. “We run for the police precinct on Madison.”

“Wha—“

“Don’t ask questions.” Dick said, finally putting Jason down. “We stay together, Okay? It’s going to be alright, but you have to stay with me.” Dick grabbed Jason's hand without waiting for an answer, practically towing him out of the parking lot and towards Madison street. He let go when it became clear that Jason had gotten the memo about running.

The two blocks between the boardwalk and Madison were already almost empty, people already having ducked into buildings or taken off after the gunshots and screams.

They slowed when they reached Madison and turned north. There were only another three blocks to the police precinct. Jason could hardly breathe. He didn't normally run like this after eating a feast.

All of a sudden, Dick seemed to catch sight of something, Slowing down even more. Jason slowed too.

“Dick, wha—“

Dick looked at him, eyes wide with fear. “Run.”

“What?”

“Run. Now. Don’t look back until you’re inside the precinct.”

“I—“

“GO!” Dick roared.

Jason ran.

Jason was only a block from the precinct when it happened. He’d barely slowed at all, gasping from the burning in his lungs, but the hand that caught him didn’t seem phased by his speed.

The large, calloused hand yanked him bodily into the darkness of an alcove that couldn’t even be called a proper alleyway. Jason did what any Alley kid would do. He found the hand and bit down hard.

A man bellowed in pain, but before Jason could press his advantage a fist connected with his chest. He doubled over, wheezing. A boot impacted in his side.

Jason yelped despite having the wind knocked out of him, and went sprawling across the dirty pavement. There were more hands on him, holding down his legs, shoving a bag over his head. There was a pinprick in his arm, and though Jason struggled as best he could, the world slipped away.

The last thing he heard was a gruff voice saying, “Well, boss’ll be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	12. Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you too [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades), as always!
> 
> [warning, swears and some violence-nothing graphic]

Jason’s struggle to wakefulness happened slowly. It began with a pounding in his head and an ache in his wrists, continued with a damp, musty smell and the sound of shuffling feet, and at long last ended with Jason forcing his eyes open. He blinked water out of them as he stared down at his bound hands and a muddy concrete floor.

“He’s awake.”

“Finaly. I think you gave him too much.”

“I got the dosage just fine. Kid’s a shrimp.”

“Go get the boss. He’ll want to go fast.”

"Yeah, yeah.”

Voices—words—filtered through Jason’s brain, but he couldn’t seem to catch hold of any of them. Awake? Was he awake? Was that why his chest and side hurt?

Jason lifted his head a bit, managing to take in more than his own legs, splayed across the floor, and the dirty boot-shaped patches on his hoodie. The rest of the room was barely better than the floor. Bare concrete walls formed an imprisoning box, holding up a cracked ceiling with a single caged lightbulb and a few strips of rusted, riveted metal. A similarly rusted metal door sank into one of the walls, and leaning against it was perhaps the most intimidating man Jason had ever seen, with a scraggly beard and a misshapen nose like someone had tried to carve a jack-o-lantern out of it. Judging by the scars on the rest of his face, somebody probably had.

Jason instinctively shrank back from the man, only to gasp around a shooting pain in his ribs. His head throbbed.

There was a clang that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, and the man stepped away from the door. It swung outward.

Jason gulped. If he had thought pumpkin-nose intimidating, this man was downright horrifying. Half of his face was consumed with one giant scar. It was gray and near-dead in some places, red and inflamed in others. The eye on that side of his face was open wide and bloodshot, and his hair was patchy and bleached out.

 _Two-face._ Jason thought. He’d seen him before, but only in pictures. Somehow pictures had never truly captured the horror of seeing that scar move with a man’s features. It wasn’t some grotesquely detailed illustration or movie effect, it was real, and right now the man who bore it was staring down at Jason with a smile. Predatory on one side, charismatic on the other.

According to Batman, this was the man Jason’s father worked for.

Two-face hand-signaled, and pumpkin-nose crouched in front of Jason, pulling a knife from his pocket. Jason flinched backwards, sending shooting pain through his torso, but all the man did was flick the knife through the rope around Jason’s wrists.

The man retreated and Jason eyed him as he rubbed his wrists, working the life back into his hands.

Two-face stepped forward and crouched in front of Jason. He turned his head like he was looking at the wall to Jason’s right, mostly obscuring the scar. The politician’s smile that remained was almost more unnerving than the expression on the whole face. It was impossible for Jason to take a step backwards, but he would have if he weren't already pressed up against the wall. He curled his knees up to his chest instead, heart racing.

“Hello,” Two-face said, with a voice that would’ve been smooth if it hadn’t turned into a rasp halfway through.

Silence stretched between them, and Jason realized Two-face was waiting for something.

“H—Hi,” Jason whispered.

The smile widened. “My… colleagues and I just have a few questions for you, child, and then we’ll be done here. Do you think you can answer them?”

Jason nodded, more because it was what he was expected to do than because he’d registered the question. He did note that the statement hadn’t included any promises as to what would happen to him after questioning.

“Your father—god rest his soul—he took something from me. Do you happen to know where he might have kept it?” The tone was pleasant enough, but there was steel beneath his words. Jason didn’t doubt that the consequences for a lie would be dire any more than he believed the concern for Willis genuine.

Jason shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

The smile was more plastic after that. “Think harder, boy.”

“I—I hadn’t seen him for months!” Jason’s voice shook. “I didn’t even know he was back in prison.”

Two-Face’s fingers drummed on his knee. “Surely you knew about something. Perhaps a common hiding place of his? Someplace he visited often?”

“I—I don’t—” Only he did. There _was_ a place. Jason remembered, from those last three days his dad was home. From the three days that made him truly hate his father.

_Two days after Jason first came home from school to find mom on the couch and dad in the kitchen, he came home to dad and a few friends in the main room with mom asleep in the back. Jason couldn’t tell if she’d been using or was just tired. Either way, it was Jason alone against his his father and three lackeys._

_They’d fallen silent when Jason walked through the door, and watched him as he walked into the back room, curling up next to mom. He’d done his homework and then laid there for another hour before his stomach’s protests drove him to brave the main room again. This time, when he came out, the men kept talking._

_Jason checked the refrigerator for the other half of the sandwich he’d made himself yesterday with the last of the bread, only to find it gone. Eaten, most likely. There were still a few cans of food in the cupboard, but nothing Jason could make himself. His stomach rumbled._

_Jason gulped, and braved turning around. “Dad?”_

_The conversation died out._

_“What?” Dad asked, flat._

_Jason fidgeted. “Um, there’s nothing to eat.”_

_Willis just waved a hand. “Then make something.”_

_Jason rubbed his arms. “Mom says I’m not allowed to use the stove.”_

_“Figure it out.” Willis snapped._

_Jason hunched over. “I—I don’t—”_

_One man, clearly fed up with the distraction, interrupted. “Take care of your son,” the man spat, “before I take care of him for you.”_

_Jason flinched back in fear._

_“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s just a kid.” Jason was glad the force of his father’s glare wasn’t turned toward him._

_“He needs to leave.” The man insisted._

_Willis just sighed. “Jason, go bother your mother.”_

_“She’s asleep,” Jason whispered, half-hoping his father wouldn’t hear it._

_But hear it, Willis did, and the man stomped over with a growl. He grabbed his coat off the back of the couch and put his other hand on Jason’s shoulder. “We’re going to the store.” He said, both to Jason and the other men. “Don’t wake Catherine.”_

_He steered Jason out the door, his heavy hands nearly leaving bruises on Jason’s shoulders._

_They walked to the corner store, Jason feeling his father breathing down his neck the entire time. At the store, Willis bought a box of frozen burritos, some Cup of Noodles, and two six packs of cheap beer. The cashier rang him up without even looking at them._

_Halfway back to the apartment, Willis suddenly yanked Jason down a side street, stopping at a place where the bricks in the wall of another apartment building had crumbled, leaving a hole into the inside of the wall. Willis took something out of his pocket and shoved it into the gap. He grabbed Jason and pulled him back towards the apartment. “You don’t tell anyone ‘bout that, ya hear me?”_

_Jason just nodded_

_When they got back, they heard yelling coming through the thin walls of the apartment. High-pitched yelling. Mom was awake._

_“Get the hell out!” She screamed, just as Jason and Willis walked in. “I won’t have your kind near my son!”_

_“What the fuck—” One man yelled, but mom wasn’t paying attention to him anymore._

_“WILLIS! YOU BASTARD. I TOLD YOU NO ‘BUSINESS’ IN MY HOME!”_

_“MY NAME IS ON THE FUCKING LEASE!”_

_“WELL I AIN’T SEEING YOU PAY FOR THE DAMN RENT!”_

_Willis looked at the other men. “Meet at Hagen’s. Half an hour.”_

_The other men bristled at being ordered around, but left._

_“Now Catherine,” Willis said, his voice turning appeasing, “They’re just friends.”_

_Mom was not appeased. “FRIENDS MY ASS! YOU’RE PLOTTING SOMETHING, AND I WON’T BE A PART OF IT!”_

_Willis threw the food and beer down on the counter, swelling up in anger. “NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, WOMAN. I’M THE ONE WHO’S LOOKING OUT FOR YOU. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK PEOPLE DO TO A WOMAN AND A KID ON THEIR OWN IN THE ALLEY, HUH? MY REPUTATION PROTECTS YOU!”_

_“YOUR REPUTATION FOR BEING A GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!”_

_That was when Willis lost his remaining control. He shoved Jason roughly to the side and stepped two strides toward Catherine. It all happened to fast for Jason to comprehend, but in an instant mom was sprawled across the floor, clutching her face, Willis standing over her, fists raised. Mom was already crying. Willis turned, and without even looking at Jason, grabbed the beer and was out the door._

_Jason unfroze, running over to mom. “Mom! Are you okay!?”_

_Mom pushed herself up and reached for Jason, pulling him into a hug. “‘m okay baby. I’m okay.” she whispered, even though she was trembling._

_Jason’s breath caught. “Mom, dad, he—”_

_Mom just squeezed him tighter. “I hate that man. Don’t you ever turn out like him, ‘kay baby?”_

_“I won’t mom, I promise.”_

Two-face could see Jason had remembered something, and he turned back to face Jason full on. “Well?” he asked, and the charismatic voice had vanished into something much more demanding. There was no attempt to hide the rasp.

“There’s—I—”

“Spit it out.”

Jason gulped, the words getting stuck in his throat. Pumpkin nose, standing to Jason’s left, reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Jason’s mouth went dry.

Two-face turned to pumpkin-nose and snapped “Put that away, you idiot.”

The turn gave Jason a full, uninterrupted view of the scar.

He turned back to Jason while Pumpkin-nose hastily stuffed the gun back in his pocket. “Where did your father go, boy?”

Jason started shaking. He couldn’t get any words out.

Two-face’s smile twisted into a sneer, and Jason was on the floor, the side of his face on fire while more pain shot through his ribs. Two-face was standing over him, rubbing the back of his left hand.

“ _Where_.” he hissed.

Jason gulped. He felt nauseated. “There—There was an apartment building off the alley. There was a hole.”

Two-face raised his one good eyebrow, but it somehow managed to be menacing rather than inquisitive.

“It was… Just a block away from Hagen’s bar and just a building ortwodownfromMurphy’sstore.”

“Was that so hard?” The charismatic voice was back for a moment, but Two-face looked at Pumpkin-nose again, and his voice got harder and raspier than it had ever been. “Can you find it?”

Pumpkin-nose nodded. “D’ya want me to take care of the kid?”

“No. we wait to make sure he’s not bluffing us. And then…” He trailed off, looking down at Jason. “We let the coin decide.”

 

* * *

 

After Two-face left, Jason curled up in a ball in the corner of the room while another man—not Pumpkin-nose—watched him. His shivering eventually stopped, and Jason was left with a churning stomach that had nothing to do with the food he had eaten just a short while before.

At least, Jason thought it was a short while.. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. Wasn’t sure where he was, or what had happened to Bruce and Dick. He wasn’t sure of anything.

That was when Jason started to cry.

At first, is was slow soft sobbs, but it built to a crescendo with hiccups that shook his entire body.

“Hey, quiet down.” Jason’s guard said.

Jason only managed to hold back the sobs for a few seconds before one tore it’s way out of his throat again, somehow stronger than before.

“Hey!” The guard sait, and a hand roughly rolled him over. “Shut the fuck up! Do you want to bring all of Arkham down on our heads?”

Jason just hiccuped, holding his hands over his mouth. He managed to stay quiet enough that when the man’s phone buzzed a few moments later, they could both hear it.

The man fished it out of his pocket and held it up to his ear. “You found the codes?”

A pause.

“And the coin says?”

Whatever the person on the other end of the line said made the man grin. “My pleasure. Brat hasn’t stopped crying anyway.”

Jason froze. The man put the phone away and reached into his jacket.

“I’d tell you this’ll be painless, but that’d be a lie.”

Jason screwed his eyes shut.


	13. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point, I think we should just accept that i'll be thanking [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) always and in perpetuity.
> 
> also, I should specify that my default batmobile (and the one i picture for this fic) is the BTAS one.

Jason hugged his knees. _Please let it be quick_.

CLANG

BANG

WACK

It was only after the sound of the gunshot faded from Jason’s ears that he realized he wasn’t dead. He opened his eyes, almost more terrified of what he would see.

The guard was slumped to the floor, unconscious. A black shadow stood in the middle of the room, obscuring the light. The metal door hitting the wall was what had made the clang sound.

The shadow moved.

“Jason! Are you hurt? Can you speak?”

Jason nodded as blackness creeped into the edges of his vision. He vaguely made out someone calling his name as he passed out for the second time that day.

 

* * *

 

Jason blinked his way awake to the sensation of gentle swaying. His face was pressed up against something hard. There was a hand rubbing circles into his back. Someone was carrying him.

With that realization, Jason jerked up, tranquil feeling gone. His heart thudded in his chest. He prepared to fight. To bite, to kick, to scream.

“Shhh, Jay. Easy.”

“Batman?” Jason asked, confused. Since when did Batman call him Jay?

Batman hummed.

“When did you get here?’ Jason asked. The last thing he remembered was the end of his guard’s phone call.

“Just a minute ago.”

Jason looked around at the bare, sparsely-lit hallway.

“Where are we?”

“Arkham Asylum,” Batman said, “abandoned wing.”

Jason tensed. “Arkham!?”

Batman kept rubbing Jason’s back. “We’ll be outside soon.”

Jason nodded and settled down. As much as he was loath to admit it, Batman’s shoulder was comfortable, and the rhythmic swaying of the man’s walk made it easy to let his eyelids droop. He was nearly asleep when he shot up, startling even himself.

“The codes!”

Batman flinched. “Jay, what—”

Jason leaned back so he was looking Batman in the eye. “The codes! Batman, Two-face wanted to know where my dad might have hidden something!”

Batman looked at him. “And you remembered something?”

Jason nodded, tears springing to his eyes. “There—there was a hole near our apartment.”

“How long ago was this?” Batman asked, pushing Jason back to his shoulder.

Jason wrapped his arms around Batman’s neck. “I—hic—I’m not sure.”

“Then he probably already has it.” Batman sped up, his footsteps taking a more purposeful tempo.

“What is it?” Jason nearly sobbed, “What’s he looking for?”

Batman’s voice went steely. “Stolen access codes to a biohazard storage and research facility just south of the city, according to one of Two-face’s lackeys.”

Jason turned his face into Batman’s neck. “Then I gave them something dangerous.”

“No, No Jay,” Batman said, “this is my fault. I knew your father stole something dangerous from them, probably to sell to the highest bidder, but I thought you were safe. They’ve been quiet this past week.”

“You—you knew what he had? You didn’t tell me?” Jason didn’t know why he felt so betrayed, but he did.

“I had a guess. I didn’t want to pull you into it.” He paused. “I’m sorry.” Batman stopped and put Jason down before he could reply. “I can’t carry you through here. You’ll have to go yourself.”

‘Here’ was a doorway half-bricked-up. It wouldn’t be a tight squeeze for Jason, but it would be rough on a full-sized person. Light—not sunlight, but artificial light—poured through the hole. Wth one last glance at Batman, Jason climbed through.

Jason hadn’t thought he’d ever be glad to see the Batmobile. The car was only visible by the glare of its headlights, as the sky was dark, and a thick row of dark trees wrapped around the area. Jason looked at the building behind him. It was a squat, run down concrete building. The only distinguishing feature was a washed-out letter A over the bricked-up door. Jason shuddered.

Hands settled on Jason’s shoulders. He jumped.

“Sorry,” Batman rumbled. The Batmobile roof slid open.

Jason went to clamber in, only to be boosted over the side by a hand under his elbow. Jasn sank into the passenger seat while Batman settled into the driver’s seat.

Jason closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, listening to the purr of the car’s engine.

There was a beep. “Batman to Nightwing. Status report.”

_“I’m still at the boardwalk. Police have the shooting suspects in custody.”_

“Victims?”

Jasn peeled his eyes open.

 _“None dead,”_ the tinny voice creaked out of the car’s speakers. _“Two with GSWs, but it seems like the gunshots were meant to scare the crowd, and corral the kid into the parking lot trap.”_

Batman relaxed minutely. “Leave the rest to the police.”

_“I can—”_

“Two-face has access codes for the high-security NIH facility south of the city.”

The voice swore. _“All I have is civilian transportation.”_

“Get there as soon as you can.”

_“Roger that.”_

Batman rached for the dashboard, but Jason shot up. “Wait!”

Silence.

Jason looked at Batman. “Who—who were the victims? Is Bruce okay? Is Dick?”

Jason was ashamed to realize he hadn’t asked right away. What kind of—of family member was he?

“They’re fine.”

“Are they at home? Are—are you taking me home?” Jason asked. He didn’t recognize the road outside the car window, but that didn’t mean they weren't going in the right direction.

Batman shook his head. “That location may be compromised.”

“What? Why? What about Alfred—is he okay?”

Batman put a hand Jason’s knee without looking away from the road. "Everyone is fine."

 _"Two-face is a planner."_ Nightwing's voice explained. _"If he organized one attack just to get to you it's possible he has people watching the house. I gotta go. Nightwing out."_

There was another beep.

"Then are you taking me to Bruce?" Jason questioned. "Where is he?"

Batman shook his head. "You're staying with me until this is settled."

Jason wanted to believe Batman was telling the truth, he really did, but the man _had_ drugged him once.

"Is Bruce really okay?" He whispered.

Batman glanced at Jason. "What?"

Jason's mind was racing, putting together pieces. Batman's standoffishness, the way he almost seemed to be drawing Jason away from the topic of Bruce with brief explanations. "If he's okay why won't you let me see him?" he demanded, "Where _is_ he?" The words came out strangled.

"Jason, I promise he's alright, but it's not safe."

There were tears in Jason's eyes. He _hated_ that. He was _angry_ not sad. "Why won't you stop lying to me?"

The car slowed as Batman pulled off the road. He turned bodily toward Jason. "I'm not—" he started to protest, but Jason didn't want to hear any more lies.

"I JUST WANT MY _DAD_." Jason screamed, then dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. "Please. If he's hurt or—or worse" Jason gulped. "Just tell me." He could take it. He'd survived losing mom.

Jason's vision was so blurred that he didn't realize Batman had moved until a gloved hand was was smoothing his hair out of his face and wiping away some of the water trailing down his cheeks.

"Jay, will you look at me, please?"

Jason pulled away, curling in onto himself. His side ached. He didn't want to look. Didn't want to see another face full of empathy, of pity, of sorrow. He snuffled. He'd had enough of it when Bruce told him Willis died. He wouldn't be able to take it when it was for someone he—

There was a rustling sound, and then there was something heavy settling over Jason's shoulders. Jason curled his fingers into the fabric and hunched his head forward, dripping tears and snot onto his hoodie.

More rustling, and then the hands were back, tugging slightly on Jason's writs. There wasn't enough force behind him to pull Jason out of his cocoon, but they were insistent.

"Jason, can you look at me? Can you do that for me, kiddo?"

It was as much out of surprise at the nickname as a conscious choice that Jason raised his head then, blinking the tears out of his eyes furiously.

The hands were on either side of his face now. Jason blinked the last of the tears out of his eyes.

Bruce smiled at him. "See, kiddo? I'm okay. I'm here."

Jason took a shaky breath. The hands pulled him forward, and then arms wrapped around him.

Even muffled by Bruce's chest, Jason's renewed sobs echoed through the car's interior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NIH stands for "National institutes of health" which does indeed have multiple campuses. I just invented an extra one in Gotham. I have no idea how their security works, but I figure Gotham probably warrants either special procedures or negligence (depending on how far the corruption goes) so I figure the idea that there might be permanent security passcodes isn't *too* crazy. If anyone knows hw it actually works I'd love to find out.
> 
> I choose NIH for reasons that are spoilers and will be linked in the end notes of next chapter.
> 
> Speaking of next chapter, the reason this one is so late is because I wanted to finish my first draft of that one before posting this, and next chapter turned out to be a *beast* at least by the standards of the chapter lengths in this fic. I don't know when that one will be up (real life obligations) but it is drafted so hopefully it won't be ages.
> 
> Edit: there was some trouble with spacing after italicized words. It's fixed now.


	14. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for handling this beast of a chapter.

It was almost an eternity, and simultaneously no time at all, before Jason's sobs quieted into whimpers and gasps, and he became aware of the fingers running through his hair and the soft humming in his ear. Another few moments passed before the arms around him loosened enough for Jason to pull away. He pretended not to notice. He wasn't sure he wanted the moment of safety to end just yet.

But end it did, with a kiss to the forehead and hands tugging the thing on Jason's shoulders tighter around him. It was a cape. _The_ cape.

Batman—Bruce started the car, leaving Jason torn and confused.

"Why—I—" Jason managed to stammer out.

A hand was back on his head, carding through his hair. It was soothing.

"I know you will have questions, but if Nightwing and I don't stop Two-face, he might hurt a lot of people. Can you wait?"

Jason nodded, too emotionally drained— too relieved—to offer protest.

"Nightwing. Is he—"

"Dick."

Jason ran his fingers over the cape. It was heavy, like a quilt, but smooth. The fabric was cool to the touch, but Jason felt warm underneath it.

"Is Alfred okay?" Jason was still worried about the man. If the manor was ‘compromised’...

"He's in the Batcave."

"The Batcave is _real_?" For a moment, all of the insanity and drama of the situation vanished as Jason stared at Bruce incredulously. “Seriously? I thought that was just a joke.”

“It’s under the house.”

“Under the—you know what, I don’t wanna know.”

Bruce’s face twitched. “I’ll show you, when all of this is over.”

Reality came crashing back down.

“Okay.” Jason mumbled.

“Jay,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay.”

“I just _gave_ him those codes. What if he hurts somebody? It’d be my fault.”

Bruce shook his head. “You couldn't have known.”

“That’s not—”

“And,” Bruce interrupted, “You’re not responsible for what other people do.”

Guilt sill laid heavy on Jason’s heart. They’d barely touched him and he’d told them exactly what they wanted. It was like he was back on the street again, saying anything to get out of a beating. Snitching on allies for half a warm meal. Hell, if pumpkin-nose had asked him about it then, he’d have sold out his dad’s cache just to make the man go away. Jason pressed his lips together. He’d thought he was _better_ than that now.

But that did make him wonder.

“Why now?” he said out loud.

“Hm?”

“Why grab me now,” Jason asked, “When I have—” _you_ “—protection? They could’a grabbed me back when I was on the street. They didn’t even seem interested a week ago.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“But—”

Bruce put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The car was slowing down. “We’re here.”

Jason handed Bruce back the cape. “What’s the plan?”

Bruce fastened the cape back on and pulled up the mask. “The _plan_ ,” he said, “Is you stay _here_ while Nightwing and I handle it.”

“I can—”

“No.”

Bruce hit the canopy release. “Stay here.” He vanished in the direction of a nearby concrete building. The canopy slid shut behind him, trapping Jason in the car.

For the first few minutes, Jason almost managed to convince himself that everything was fine outside, but a series of cracking gunshots reverberated through the car, and Jason had his nose pressed up against the window. He had to get out there.

Jason looked around frantically for something—anything—to use as a weapon. There was no glovebox, and the back seat was a seat in name only, without any space to hide anything. Jason eyed the carious buttons and dials on the dashboard. One of them was sure to help but he didn’t know what the rest of them would do. The only one he was certain of was the canopy release, a small gray button at the center of the dash.

But getting _out_ of the car wasn’t going to do him any good if he wasn’t able to _help_.

In desperation, Jason climbed into the driver’s seat, looking around by the pedals for anything, even a floor mat, that he could use. That was when he saw it. A glint of medal poked out from under the seat. Jason reached for it, hand closing around slightly rusty metal. _Please be a sword or something_.

It was a tire iron.

More specifically, it was _Jason’s_ tire iron. The one Batman confiscated. He would recognize the series of dents that characterized the metal X anywhere.

Jason almost laughed. It had been here this whole time?

Another bang echoed through the car, and Jason abruptly sobered. A tire iron would make a perfect weapon.

Jason checked through all the windows before he hit the release. He didn’t want to get ambushed. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

Jason climbed out of the car. The squat concrete building had a dumpster pushed up against its side. Near it was a metal door with a keypad. A small red LED glowed from it like an eye in the dark. There was a light fixture over the door, but it was either off or burned out, leaving the illumination of the parking lot to a single lamp near the empty street.

If Jason climbed up on the dumpster, he could boost himself up to the roof.

It took some scrambling, and hooking the tire iron over the lip of the dumpster for a handhold, but Jason got up on top. The wall behind it was bare, and there was more of it between him and the roof than he had thought. He jumped as high as he could, but only just managed to brush the ledge with the tips of his fingers. He resisted the urge to swear.

That was when he heard an engine.

Panicked, Jason jumped off the dumpster, crouching in the shadows behind it. He watched a motorcycle tear into the small parking lot where the Batmobile was parked. Nightwing lept off of it and ran over to the building, vanishing onto the roof. He didn’t even look in the direction of Jason’s hiding place.

Watching him vanish over the roof after a truly spectacular series of flips, Jason started to reconsider his plan. If Nightwing was here to help, what could Jason do? Maybe it was better that he wait like he was told.

Jason crept over to the car. He’d just sight tight and—

The car was locked. Or well, he guessed it was locked. It didn’t exactly have doors, but the canopy was shut tight and the only latch he could find didn’t do anything.

Jason _did_ swear then.

He couldn’t just stand by the car, it was much too exposed, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go. The bare concrete buildings around him offered few hiding spots, and the roof was already a bust.

Out of options, Jason climbed of top of the dumpster again. At least he’d have a height advantage if anyone came near him. He stayed alert, surveying the barely-lit parking lot and the door with eagle eyes. He was _not_ going to get jumped again.

More sounds echoed from inside the building, and Jason pressed himself against the wall, clutching the tire iron with white knuckles.

Things were quiet for a few moments and Jason shifted from panic to a calmer readiness, his heartbeat slowing.

The door burst open with a BANG.

Jason tensed up all over again. Pumpkin-nose stumbled out, clutching a duffel bag. His breath came out in rattling gasps.

The man, so intimidating to Jason before, seemed somehow smaller now. Maybe it was the way he hunched over, head sweeping side to side as he fled, or maybe it was the fact that Jason had a good vantage point from the top of the dumpster, a weapon in his hand, and the element of surprise on his side. Either way, he felt no fear as he jumped onto the man’s back, whipping the tire iron around his neck. Pumpkin-nose stumbled backwards, but Jason was prepared. He held onto the tire iron for dear life, tightening it against the man’s throat.

The duffel bag landed on the ground with a soft thump while Pumpkin-nose scrambled to get his hands under the tire iron while also attempting to shake Jason off.

Jason was just beginning to think that the man would go down with barely a fight when his back collided with the wall, setting his injured side on fire. His grip loosened.

There was a blur of motion, and Jason was rolling across the pavement, empty handed and gasping for breath. He got up on all fours, head swiveling around for Pumpkin-nose.

Something hard hit Jason’s shoulder, sending him sprawling again.

“Damn kid,” A voice gasped, “Shoulda killed you myself.”

Jason attempted to rise again, but something pressed down on his back and his arms gave out. Jason cried out when his shoulder hit the pavement. He hoped it was just bruised and not worse.

There was a slight scraping sound of metal on pavement, and then three low wacking sounds, like hitting a ruler against skin.

Or hitting a tire iron against the palm of a hand.

Jason rolled over on his back. Pumpkin-nose stood over him, holding the tire iron like an oddly shaped baseball bat. He was standing just inside Jason’s kicking range.

“Gonna enjoy this.”

He swung down, hard, at the exact same moment Jason lashed out at the ankle closest to him with both feet, twisting his body in order to do so.

Either because if the kick or the twist, the swing went wide, hitting just next to Jason’s head as Pumpkin-nose swore and stumbled backwards.

Jason barely had time to scramble to his feet before the man was coming at him again, holding the iron over his head like he intended another downward swing. If it hit Jason he’d be done for, but Jason was small, and the move left the man’s stomach wide open.

Despite all his instincts screaming at him to _run away_ , Jason ducked in closer, driving his good shoulder into Pumpkin-nose’s diaphragm.

Pumpkin-nose doubled over, arms wrapped around himself, and somewhere behind Jason the tire iron hit the ground with a clatter.

Pressing his advantage, Jason swung a clumsy fist up, feeling it hit something soft-ish.

Pumpkin-nose choked, but swung his arms out. Jason danced out of reach of the grab and scooped up the tire iron. He held it tightly in one hand as Pumpkin-nose made another grab at him. Jason avoided a few more grabs before he saw his chance. As he dodged just under an arm, he swung the tire iron up.

Pumpkin-nose probably would’ve screamed if he wasn't falling on all fours to throw up.

Jason stood to the side. He held the tire iron ready for another strike, breath shuddering in his lungs, but Pumpkin-nose didn’t rise. He was shaking to hard to attempt a fight.

Abruptly, the fight drained out of Jason, and he started shaking too. It took all he held not to drop the tire iron. He took one step away from the man, and then another, until his wobbly feet carried him all the way to the unguarded duffel bag. With a glance over his shoulder—Pumpkin-nose might have been trying to rise but he was still hunched over—he unzipped it, and found… a box?

A cardboard box about the size of a shoebox had been wrapped tightly in several layers of bubble wrap, and the inside of the duffel bag was stuffed with packing peanuts. Through the plastic distortion of the bubble wrap, in the dim light of the street lamp, Jason could just make out the biohazard warning symbol and several blocks of text.

Jason put the box down carefully. He didn't particularly want to find out what was inside.

He glanced back at Pumpkin-nose, realizing just how dire his situation was. He was alone, outside, with a an already-recovering opponent and a box that could hold any disease known to man.

Jason zipped up the bag and ducked under it’s strap. He stood, tightening it to fit him. He might not know what was in the box, but he knew he couldn’t let Pumpkin-nose get it back. He hefted the tire iron and spun, looking for a place to run. He needed—

A hand yanked Jason to the side but the bag strap. Jason lashed out, feeling the tire iron connect with something. A second strike was met with a crack and a scream.

Jason twisted away with all the force he had left in his legs, but it didn’t matter. Pumpkin-nose was down, cradling his wrist as he knelt on the pavement.

Jason only had a second to stare at him before he heard footsteps.

Jason swung around, looking for a second assailant, but there was none.

Then a vice rang out from above him. “Jason?”

Jason looked up just in time to see Nightwing land on the dumpster, light as a cat, and then flip to the ground.

“What are you doing out of the car?” Nightwing—Dick—asked.

Jason didn’t waste time on explanation. “Pumpkin-nose had this,” he said, fumbling the duffel off his shoulder. “It’s got some disease—or, or toxin or something in it.”

Nightwing looked down at the bag Jason shoved into his arms. “Pumpkin-nose?”

Jason shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. “You gotta get this away from him. Where’s Bru—Batman?”

Nightwing looked down at Pumpkin-nose, and then back up at Jason. “What?”

Jason felt like tearing his hair out in frustration.

“Batman? Tall, pointy ears? You know where he is, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Nightwing sounded irritated, “he’s inside. Dent’s still in there.”

Jason pointed at the bag. “Then we gotta get that away!” I dunno what’s in the box, but this guy—” He jabbed a thumb at Pumpkin-nose, who was still whimpering. “—was in a hell of a hurry to make off with it.”

Nightwing looked at Pumpkin-nose again. When he turned back to Jason he looked impressed. “You stopped him?”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “Yes! And we’re wasting time!”

Nightwing looked torn. “I need to go backup Batman. You should wait in the car until—”

“I am _not_ ,” Jason said with venom, “Going to wait in the car, _again_ , with a bag of disease.”

Nightwing looked at him. “If I tell you to stay put, can you stay put?”

Jason opened his mouth.

“Someplace _not_ in the car.” Nightwing clarified.

Jason shut his mouth and nodded. Nightwing swung the bag’s strap over his own shoulder and held a hand out to Jason. “The roof will be safest.”

Jason took the hand with his good arm, and found himself swung onto Nightwing’s back.

“Hold on tight.”

Jason did, the tire iron dangling from one hand, even though holding made his shoulder and side twinge. He buried his face in Nightwing’s neck. He told himself it was to protect it from the wind.

A flurry of vertigo-inducing moments later, Jason lifted his head and looked out over the skylight-dotted flat concrete roof.

Nightwing put him down and handed him the bag. “Can you watch this? I don’t want to bring it back down to Dent.”

Jason had the distinct impression he was being talked down to, but the request made sense.

Nightwing nodded and opened one of the skylights. He unwound a cord from one of his cuffs and hooked it to the edge of the metal frame. He tossed a small, flat object to Jason. “Backup comlink. Stay silent and don’t move unless there’s an emergency.”

Jason nodded, and Nightwing vanished into the dark skylight.

Jason sat down next to the bag, grateful for a breather. Upon examination, the comlink didn’t look like anything special. From what Jason could make out in the near-darkness, it was like a flip phone, if a flip phone didn’t bend in the middle and all the keys were replaced with just a switch, a dial, and a single button. Since it seemed powered off, Jason flipped the switch and watched it come on with a single green LED and a few numbers on the dim display. Jason guessed they were a radio frequency. Jason put it down in his lap.

Now he had to wait. Again. Jason sighed.

Luckily, it wasn't long before the comlink crackled to life. Jason fumbled it to his ear.

_“Southside clear, and the runner who got out is incapacitated. Your position Batman?”_

_“Outside the decontamination showers. Dent and two others barricaded inside, with the night guard as a hostage.”_

_“I’ll be right over there.”_

_“Negative. There are still other civilians in the building.”_

_“But I thought—”_

_“A lab tech and a custodian. Hidden in the supply closet next to the security office since you arrived.”_

_“Dent doesn’t know they’re here?”_

_“Negative.”_

_“Sloppy, for him.”_ Nightwing observed.

_“Desperation.”_

_“I don’t suppose you have any idea why?”_

_“...”_

_“Damn.”_

_“Get the other two out of here.”_

_“Batman, wait—”_

_Click._

There was a crackle of static on the comlink like someone had exhaled into a microphone, and then another click.

Jason scrambled over to the skylight on all fours and peered down into the semidarkness. There were a few lights on inside, but not enough to illuminate anything beyond the few shapes of the few carts and computer desks directly beneath the skylight. The rope Nightwing had gone down was still there, swaying slightly from a draft.

Light and movement drew his eye, and Jason stuck his head down the skylight to see through the gloom.

A door opened, and a man’s hand, caught in the beam of a flashlight, waved two figures through. They crossed almost directly beneath Jason until he could hear hitching breath and Nightwing’s low, even voice.

“Just a bit longer. You’ll be out of here soon.”

The smaller of the two other figures nodded and wiped at their face. The breathing quieted after that, and soon the three vanished through another door.

A resounding crack echoed through the building. Jason startled and nearly tumbled down the skylight. Someone yelled somewhere in the dark, and the sound of shattering glass followed. Jason yanked his head up, but he still saw the door Nightwing had come out of break inward as a body came flying through it.

The man—another henchman, Jason guessed—rolled to a stop only a few feet away  from being directly beneath Jason. He moved, weakly attempting to get up on his hands and knees. Jason was still watching him when Two-face came barreling into the room.

He was disheveled, suit coat gone, and even in the dim light dull glistening on his hands was clearly blood.

He didn’t bother with his henchman, instead mocking her for the door Nightwing had gone out of.

“DENT!”

Two-face froze halfway to the door and spun, grotesque grimace fixed on his face. He reached inside his jacket and metal glinted in the low light.

Batman stepped out of the broken doorway, dropping another man to the floor in a heap. “You’ve lost,” he growled, “Don’t make this worse for yourself.”

Two-face laughed a gravely laugh and pulled a phone out of his pocket with the hand not holding the gun and brandished it. “If I don’t make a call to stop it, my men will start making use of tonight’s spoils before dawn.”

“What men?” Batman hissed, “The ones you left at Arkham? The man Nightwing apprehended in the parking lot?”

The grimace slid into a snarl. Two face dropped the phone. There was a vial in his hand, tucked behind where the phone had been. “I still have one left. Would you like to find out what’s in here the hard way?” he challenged. He tucked the gun away and a scarred coin took its place. “Fifty-fifty, Bats.” he hissed.

“What does this accomplish, Harvey?”

“Gotham’s rotten through and through, you know that. But this time I—”

A crackle sound from Jason’s clenched fist. He wasted precious moments fumbling to shut the comlink off before Two-face heard.

“Nightwing to Bat—” Jason hit the switch, but the coin was already in the air.

Batman lunged across the intervening space, but Two-face was already catching it, eyes barely flicking to it before he tossed the vial in a high arc.

Jason gasped out loud as Batman just barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor. He rolled with it, pulling it to his chest.

Rather than turning to run, Two-face leapt forward, drawing the gun from his coat again. He put a foot on Batman’s chest and pointed the gun at his face.

Batman froze.

Jason shoved the commlink into his pocket, shifted his weight, and reached for the rope hanging below him. He’d only have one shot at this.

Luckily for Jason, Two-face was still talking.

“This one goes beyond Gotham. I’ll be able to bring nations to their knees and this time you won’t be able to stop me, no one will. Not the corrupt cops, not the families, not any of the feds. And the beauty of it? It’ll be random. All by chance. Disease doesn’t care how many cops you’ve paid off. It strikes all the same.”

Jason gripped the rope and stood, dangling one foot over the gap. _Wait for it—_

“What disease? This isn’t a weapons lab, they don’t store antibiotic resistant bacteria here. Nothing here that modern medicine—the kind you can _pay_ for, Harvey— can’t fix.”

Two-face threw his head back and laughed. The gun dipped. “I’m counting on it. Those who pay will rip each other apart for—”

Jason lept.

The rope burned his hands on his way down, and he reflexively let go still three feet off the floor. His shoulder screamed at him. His landing wasn’t the best, but he had good enough footing to charge. Two-face was just starting to turn when Jason rammed into his side at full speed. He staggered to the side but didn’t go down, swinging his gun hand at Jason’s head. Jason raised his arms in feeble defence and screwed his eyes shut, but no impact came. He opened his eyes.

Batman stood between Jason and Two-face, one hand holding the gun arm aloft, the other fisted in Two-face’s shirt.

As Jason watched, his head whipped forward and Two-face stumbled back, clutching at his bleeding nose. The gun fell to the floor. Two more hits and he was down, Batman yanking his arms behind his back and zip-tying them together.

He stepped back. Looked at Jason. “Are you alright?”

Jason nodded.

Batman put a gentle hand on Jason’s good shoulder. “Give me a minute.” He raised his other hand to his ear. “Nighting. You’ve notified Gordon?” he paused, “I need you back here for cleanup. Dent and two others. The hostage is unharmed. Why was Jason on the roof.”

Jason jumped at the mention of his name.

“I’m getting him out of here as soon as you get back.”

Things moved in a blur after that. Jason barely noticed Nightwing getting back, missed the silent and weighted conversation he had with Batman, barely stirred when he was lifted and carried back to the car. Some of the only things keeping him awake were the aches all across his body, and even then he’d be asleep if the police sirens didn’t shake him awake. He wasn’t sure how long he waited in the car while Batman supervised Two-face and his cronies, including Pumpkin-nose, getting stuffed roughly into the backs of patrol cars. Evidently Batman and Nightwing weren’t needed for the civilians, because as soon as they came out Nightwing sped off and Batman climbed into the car with Jason. He didn’t say anything as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Jason could’ve cut the tension in the air with a knife by the time Batman—Bruce spoke.

“That was dangerous.”

Jason roused from his stupor enough to get defensive. “It worked!”

“You could’ve been killed.”

“So could you!”

“You have no training, no experience—”

“I’m not going to just sit by and watch you get shot!” Jason’s breathing was heavy, and his next words came out as a rasp. “I can’t lose my parent again.”

Bruce pulled down the cowl. “Jay, I—”

Jason wasn't done. “My mom—I couldn’t _do_ anything. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

Bruce reached out and took Jason’s hand. Under other circumstances, Jason would’ve giggled at how much Bruce’s hand dwarfed his own.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce said, “I didn’t want to put you in that position. Can we postpone this discussion until we get home?”

Jason looked up at him. “Okay.”

They arrived in the Batcave in a comfortable silence. Jason was able to muster enough energy for wonderment at seeing the cave, but he was still dead on his feet. It took Dick appearing in his Nightwing suit and Alfred coming down a set of stairs to bring him to full wakefulness.

Dick took in Jason, stumbling towards a medical cot Bruce had pointed out, and Bruce’s maskless face before saying anything.

“You _told_ him?”

“There wasn’t any other option at the time.”

“He—”

“I was scared.” Jason said, as loud as he could. “I needed it.”

Dick looked at him, at Alfred, back at Bruce. “Okay,” he relented, “as long as you can keep the secret.”

“I can.” Jason said. He meant it.

“I have to go,” Dick announced. “Roy called with a mission.”

“You’ve been going all day. Get some rest before you go out again.” Bruce said.

Dick waved him off, but he was smiling. “I’ll be fine.” He detoured to lift Jason up onto the cot where Alfred was waiting, already getting out gauze. He stooped down to give Jason a quick hug. “Glad you’re okay, kid. If you need some help, call me. Alfred has my number.”

Jason grinned.

“Dick!” Bruce called out as Dick straddled his motorcycle.

Dick pulled his helmet off, looking nervous. “Yeah?”

Bruce hesitated. “Come back next weekend?”

Dick looked startled, but slowly a smile spread across his face. “I’ll try!”

He sped out of the cave with more than a few showy revs of the engine.

Alfred smiled down at Jason. “Now lets have a look at you. Any major injuries?”

Jason shook his head. “My shoulder and side kinda hurt though.” He started shrugging off his hoodie. It was going to need a good wash.

Alfred checked him over quickly. “Well I suppose if you escaped tonight with nothing but a few nasty bruises, you were in less danger than I was lead to believe.” The last bit was said pointedly in Bruce’s direction.

“He dropped out of the skylight and headbutted Harvey.”

Alfred almost dropped the hoodie. “Good heavens.”

“And I hit a guy with my tire iron!” Jason exclaimed. “He threw up and everything!”

Both Bruce and Alfred were looking at him now. “What?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah! That guy with the carved-up nose? I got ‘im good!” He’d been terrified for his life at the time, but Bruce didn’t need to know that. “Oh hey,” Jason remembered. “I think I left my tire iron on the roof of that place.” He fished the comlink out of his pants pocket. “And I think this was Dick’s”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nightwing got the tire iron and the bag. May I ask why you felt the need to hit this man?”

“‘Cause he was trying to escape with something! Oh hey, speaking of, what _was_ in that box?”

Bruce abruptly sobered. “Variola.”

“Good lord,” Alfred said, “Really?”

Bruce nodded. “We think so. They have no way of knowing if it was viable yet, but that was likely part of the draw to Harvey, the uncertainty. The GCPD is investigating who could’ve leaked the information and codes, and how it went undiscovered in that lab in the first place. WHO will likely get involved by tomorrow.”

Jason blinked. “I don’t get it. What’s variola?”

Bruce looked at him. “It’s better known as smallpox.” At Jason’s confused look, he continued, “Ever heard of chickenpox?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. Some kids at my school had it and mom said not to go near them since I wasn’t vaccinated and we couldn’t afford a doctor.”

" _Going to need to fix that,_ " Bruce mumbled, and then louder said, “it’s a bit like that, only it’s one of the deadliest—if not _the_ deadliest—diseases in human history. It was eradicated—gotten rid of—in 1980. We don’t vaccinate for it anymore. It’s only supposed to be stored in two places, one in Atlanta and one in Russia.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Then why would it be here?”

“That’s what the police—and me, tomorrow—are going to try to find out. This isn’t the first time it’s turned up where it’s not supposed to be, but this time it seems less like an error and more intentional.”

Jason looked down at his hands. “So it would’ve been bad— _really_ bad—if I hadn’t stopped that guy.”

Bruce nodded. “It could have been, yes.”

Jason beamed. The idea of a super-deadly disease like that getting into the hands of someone like Two-face was terrifying, but the knowledge that he’d _stopped_ it brought a wave of euphoria. “Now I’m _double_ glad I hit that him.”

Bruce smiled, but it was tight around the edges. “I suppose so.”

“You’re looking fine, Master Jason. You’ll have some bad bruises but there doesn't appear to be any other damage.” Alfred said. “It’s best you get some rest.”

Jason nodded and went to hop off the cot but Bruce scooped him up instead. “I’ll take you up there. Thank you Alfred.”

Normally Jason would object—he’d been carried around enough today—but his brief burst of energy was fading fast. “Mm ‘kay.”

The halls of the manor were silent after Bruce carried him out of the grandfather clock in the study—and wasn’t _that_ cool—and Jason almost drifted off before Bruce even told him to change into pajamas and tucked him into bed.

Jason expected Bruce to leave, but the man just sat next to his bed, pulling his fingers through Jason’s tangled hair. It was pleasant, and Jason relaxed into it for a few moments before speaking.

“You lied to me,” he said softly.

Bruce’s hand in his hair stilled. “I know. I’m sorry, but it was for the best.”

Jason managed a droopy smile. “It’s okay. I understand.” It was getting harder to focus on the words. He had to say this now. “It still hurts, but I get it. Just don’t lie to me anymore, ‘kay?”

“I’ll try to avoid it.”

Jason hummed. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. “Love you.”

Bruce whispered something under his breath, barely loud enough for even him to hear it. He pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead with a quiet “Goodnight,” but it hardly mattered. The boy was already fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And [this](http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2014/07/six-vials-smallpox-discovered-us-lab) is why I chose NIH.
> 
> and there's the last major chapter! We have the epilogue and then a couple of requested one-shots that will be posted around the same time to go. (though another sequel in the distant distant future is possible, i'm going to mark the series as complete for now) one of those one-shots should hopefully alleviate any major confusion about the whole two-face situation, but if you're really confused about what happened and why, feel free to ask!
> 
> As of now, this is the longest work on my AO3! think about that!
> 
> Edit: forgot to mention that I choose smallpox because A) It's been eradicated and that worked best for this, B) whether or not some found vials would be viable introduces the Two_face element of chance, and C) because it can in some cases be airborne (probably breaking that vial on the floor wouldn't have infected anybody, but there's a chance, and hey, artistic license)


	15. Epilogue

Jason spun around in the big black batcave computer chair. There was something about swivel chairs that made spinning irresistible, and this particular chair was so well oiled that if he kicked off the desk he was dizzy in a matter of seconds.

Jason was just starting to think that he’d have to stop soon or he’d throw up, when the chair abruptly slowed.

Jason looked at Bruce’s (slightly blurry) face. “Heya Bruce.”

“You’re in my chair.”

“Don’t see your name on it.”

“It has a bat on it. That makes it mine.”

“Wait, really?” Jason scrambled to look at the back of the chair.

“No, not really.”

“Jason dropped back into his chair with a thump. “No fair.”

“Come on,” Bruce said, tugging on his arm, “up with you. I need to use the computer.”

Jason jumped up, excited. “Did you find something?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Bruce slid into the chair and woke the computer.

Jason bounced on his toes. “Can I help?”

“Not with this.”

Jason slumped over. “Awwww.”

“Unless you want to watch hours of traffic footage for the licence plate of our wayward NIH employee.”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “No thanks.”

“Thought so.”

Jason watched Bruce pull up grainy traffic footage. He hesitated. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?”

Bruce glanced at him. “I can handle this.”

Jason wavered. “Okay. Tell me if you need help.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

Jason wandered over to the training area. There wasn’t a whole lot to do by the computer when Bruce was busy, but he could practice the kicks Bruce was teaching him.

It got boring after awhile, and Jason sat down on the mats and pulled out his new phone.

When Dick brought up getting Jason a phone for emergencies last week, Bruce had grumbled about 9-year-olds not needing phones, but then bought him one anyway. It had a touch screen, and was about the coolest piece of technology Jason had ever seen, outside of basically everything in the cave.

Jason was surprised to see a text notification on the screen. He hadn’t heard the phone chime.

**Dick**

_ “Has Bruce talked to you yet?” _

Jason frowned and sent “ _ Talked to me about what? _ ”

The reply came back almost immediately.

_ “Oops _ .  _ Forget I said anything” _

Jason looked up at Bruce, who was still absorbed in his traffic footage. He typed out “ _ I think he got distracted. What was he going to say?” _

_ “Nuh uh. I’m not ruining it.” _

_ “Come on.” _

_ “If you want to know, ask him.” _

Jason scowled. Dick was  _ infuriating _ via text. Impossible to get information out of, too.

Well if Dick wasn’t going to share, Jason would just have to find out himself.

Jason made sure to make noise as he approached the computer. Bruce startled easily when he was working like this, if you could call Jason’s three near misses with being punched in the past two weeks “startling.” This time, luckily, Bruce looked up before Jason had to weigh the option of poking him.

“Need anything, Jay?”

Jason waved his phone at Bruce’s face. “Dick says you were going to talk to me about something.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told him not to mention it to you.”

Jason shrugged. “He wouldn’t say what it was.”

Bruce stared at him inscrutably for a minute. “I’ll be right back.” He vanished in the direction of the cave’s storage space.

Jason took the vacated chair and started spinning in it.

Bruce reappeared a minute later, holding something small in one hand. It was hard for Jason to see what it was while spinning.

“Before I say this, I want you to know that you can say no, and it won’t change anything.” Bruce started.

Jason dragged his feet along the floor to slow down.

“And I also want you to know that it wouldn’t be right away. It might even take years, but  I’m asking you now so you’re aware upfront. You’ll keep learning self-defense regardless, but there’s other training involved in this.”

Jason stopped the chair completely. Part of him wanted Bruce to just spit it out already, since he never waffled like this and it was weird enough as it was, and part of him was trying to process what Bruce was saying.  _ Does he mean _ —

“When Dick was younger, before he was Nightwing, he used to work with me at all of this.” Bruce gestured vaguely at the cave. It was the first hand motion he’d made since he started talking. He was still holding something tightly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a partner. I already talked to Dick about it. I wanted to ask you — If you wanted to — If you’re still interested in helping — you could be — ”

“ _ Robin _ ,” Jason whispered, at the exact same time Bruce said the same.

Bruce nodded and held out the object he’d been holding. It was a small mask. Green, with shiny lenses. “We’d start training right away, and it might be years before you’re field ready. That is, if you want…” Bruce trailed off. He looked more unsure than Jason had ever seen him.

Jason kicked the chair off again. He needed a second to think up his response.

Bruce cleared his throat. “You can say no, I won’t force this on you — ”

Jason stopped the chair’s spin facing Bruce. “The kids on the street, they used to say, ‘Robin is awesome’ ‘Robin is badass’ “Robin’s cooler than the Bat.’”

Bruce smiled  just a bit. He was still tense. “I suppose that’s true.”

“No but see—“ Jason said, kicking the chair back into a spin. “I told them they were all wrong.” It had been a common argument, when he’d had the energy to argue. Jason always won, even if the other kids wouldn’t admit it.

“Oh?”

Jason waited until the chair slowed it’s spin to launch himself off of it towards Bruce, who caught him instinctively. Jason threw his arms around Bruce’s neck, turning it into a hug. He hoped that counted as a nonverbal “yes.”

“See,” Jason said, voice muffled by Bruce’s chest, “I told ‘em Robin isn’t ‘cool’ or ‘badass’ or ‘awesome.’”

“Then what is he?”

Jason looked up at Bruce, face spreading into a grin. “Robin is  _ magic _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M FREEEEEEEE....well, mostly. There are two shorts for this verse one of which is [already up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106811) and the other of which will be up within the hour, (and probably before many of you are even reading this) but then that's it for this 'verse in the foreseeable future. I won't rule out the possibility of a revisit if i come up with another good story to tell, but i'm marking the series complete for the time being.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me and with this fic for more than a year!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@chimaerakitten](http://chimaerakitten.tumblr.com) if anyone wants to talk fic/hcs.


End file.
